Mate of Honor
by MagTwi78
Summary: Best friends Bella and Edward have a deal—if they're not married by the time they're 30, they'll marry each other. While she's been searching for Mr. Right, he's been busy with Miss. Right Now. Would you be happy seeing your long-time love say 'I do' to someone else? B & E, M
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Twilight or Made of Honor. All publicly recognizable entities belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended. Thanks to my PTB betas JulieToo, Jcat5507 and mcc101180.

**Summary: **Best friends Bella and Edward have a deal—if they're not married by the time they're 30, they'll marry each other. While she's been searching for Mr. Right, he's been busy with Miss. Right Now. Would you be happy seeing your long-time love say 'I do' to someone else? BxE, M

* * *

**Mate of Honor**

**Chapter 1**

The night city air is cold. It's telling me that fall has definitely arrived and that winter's on its way. I pull the collar of my coat higher and stuff my hands deeper into my pockets. I'm only now seriously regretting the decision not to wear gloves. Smart, right? It's been a long day—the same as any other this week. Get up, run, work, lunch, work, work more, go home. Then come home, eat, watch TV, sleep. Lather, rinse, and do it all again tomorrow.

I stop at the crosswalk and wait for the lights to change. I could have driven to work, but when I left this morning, I had no idea how late I'd stay at the office. I thought, being a Friday, I'd finish earlier than this. I brave the cold briefly as I take my left hand out of my pocket to check my watch—7:30PM. On a Friday.

The city streets are gradually filling with happy couples and groups of younger girls, dressed in way too little for such a chilled evening. I'd sound old if I said that girls didn't dress like that "back in my day." But I'm twenty-nine. Twenty-nine isn't old. Really—it's not.

I turn onto the street that houses my apartment building. I've lived there for three years but find that I still can't call it "home." "Home" is a small town half a continent away. The tallest things are not buildings, but trees that reach as high as the eye can see. Well, as high as the eye can see when the eye belongs to a seven year old. When you're seven, everything is pretty damn high. And, if you can't see the top of it, seven-year-old logic tells you that it _obviously_ reaches the sky.

The bar across the street from my building beckons, promising me drinks to warm my insides and maybe a body to warm my bed. It'd be an easy way to squash the lonely that knocks at my window each night, but strangely for me, it's fairly unappealing right now.

I just need to wait ten more months. In ten more months, I'll be on a plane to Nevada, where promises made in the desert mean the end to cold lonely nights forever.

It's an extension of a promise made beneath the trees long ago.

I wave at the doorman on my way to the elevator. He nods his gray head in return before turning his attention back to the tiny screen that sits behind the high desk. There must be a game on—when there's a game on, Harry has a tiny TV that garners much of his attention.

Occasionally we make small talk. Having both come from small towns, albeit at opposite ends of the continent, we have something to bond over. We share short stories of high school football games that the whole town shuts down to watch, and bake sales in which the resident Church group unleashes their best home bakers on the town. We discuss bake-sale specialties—in Harry's case, his favorite is apple pie. In my world, it's pumpkin. And then we return to our evening activities—he to his job, me to my apartment, where pumpkin pies are substituted with reheated leftovers.

I play with my keys as I ride the elevator to my floor. When I moved into this building, I took an apartment on the fifteenth floor so I'd have the best view I could afford. My apartment is comfortable enough for a single person. My living room boasts a flat-screen, a huge, wall-sized shelf dedicated to my books and a big, comfy arm chair. The kitchen is clean and uncluttered and has the perfect arrangement for cooking. It's only a little sad that most of my meals are for one, although I prefer to do most of my entertainingelsewhere. I have a guest room that is infrequently used and a small home office that is used even less. Long hours at work give little reason to use the desk I have these days.

My bedroom is also uncluttered and simply decorated. There's no plethora of cushions to adorn my bed, and the hardwood floors easy to maintain. The adjoining bathroom contains the essentials and serves its purpose well.

Yep—it's the perfect apartment for a single person.

I unlock my door and drop the keys into the bowl on the hall table. After shrugging out of my bulky coat and hanging it in the closet behind the front door, I rub my hands together in an attempt to warm them. A quick glance at the answering machine shows no glowing light—no messages. I open the fridge, grab a beer, and mentally remind myself to do some grocery shopping over the weekend.

After dialing for a pizza, I toe off my shoes and sink into the couch. I prop my feet on the coffee table and grin—I do it every time because I know I'd never get away with that at my parents' place. My head rests back, and I stare at the ceiling, breathing out a deep puff of air and causing the hair that's falling in my eyes to lift. Despite knowing there's nothing on, I flick on the TV and channel surf until my dinner arrives.

I collect my phone and scroll through my contacts. I _could_ call someone and go out. Maybe Angela for drinks? Or Jessica—she's always good for a laugh. There's always Leah…

I toss my cell back onto the coffee table and sink further into the couch. Staying in sounds like a good idea, too. It really has been a long week.

Sipping my beer and going back to flicking through channels, I ask myself again why—why do I work myself to the bone? I mean, it's not like I need the money. My grandfather left me a decent inheritance that I got control of when I turned twenty-one, and I made some smart investment choices. Add that to the chair I patented once I started working as an industrial designer, I'm pretty much set for life. Who'd have known that when I started studying fine arts, I'd end up in furniture design? The chair in question started off as a gimmick—a miniature sized, ergonomic prototype that caught the attention of the head of the Chicago school board, who told an acquaintance who just ended up being the former senator of Illinois. Next thing I knew, they were in every new elementary school in America, with _me_ as the patent owner.

Not bad for a kid from a small town.

My work as a designer downtown is now simply for fun. I tend to come up with unique pieces for the Midwest's elite, although I do have some clients in New York that are partial to my more experimental stuff.

My phone rings, buzzing about in its place on the glass molded coffee table. I reach for it, smiling as the familiar song rings throughout the room. My best friend, and fifteen-year-ago promise, programmed it into my phone on our last vacation together.

"Hey, you."

"Hey, whore. What are you up to?"

I snicker at my best friend's nickname for me. It's not unjustified, however. "Just at home."

"On a Friday night? God, what's happened to you? Getting old?"

I snicker. "Twenty-nine is not old. And it's only three months older than you anyway."

"Which means you're always going to be three months older than me."

"Well, that's how things work. So yes. I will be." I smile into the empty room. "What are you doing?"

I can hear cutlery clinking against plates. "Eating lunch. In the sunshine."

"Shut up. It's freezing here."

"Jealous?"

I shiver involuntarily. "No."

"Liar."

"How is it there, anyway?"

"Fucking beautiful, to be honest. I'm sitting in a cafe, eating lunch overlooking the river." I can hear swallowing.

I look over at the fridge, picking out the postcard that has been held there by one of the ugliest magnets you've ever seen. Koalas aren't meant to have red eyes, are they? "I wish you wouldn't call me when you're eating."

"You don't want me to call?" More swallowing. "'Cause I'm always eating."

I chuckle. "Don't I know it. I can order a large pizza now and actually get leftovers."

"Mushrooms?"

"Hell no. Mushrooms are disgusting."

"Pfft." The universal sound of disagreement hisses through the phone.

I stretch my legs further, pointing and flexing my toes. "So why are you calling? Nobody else to torment?"

"What? Can't I call my best friend?"

"Of course you can." I can hear my own voice softening. "I just don't think you called to tell me you were eating lunch."

Again, that laugh—I'll never get sick of the sound. "Okay, I'll cut to the chase." A gulp, that sounds more like drinking than eating. "I'm letting you off the hook."

"Which one?"

"The one that ties you to me forever."

My heart falters. "What do you mean?"

"I'm doing it! I'm really doing it!"

"Doing what?"

"Edward, I'm getting married!" Bella laughs again, that husky chuckle that I've loved all my life, and the world falls away from my feet. "And I want you to be my mate of honor!"

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**A/N: **No defined posting schedule for this one, I'll fit it in around Yosemite Decimal.

Should I post more? Let me know what you think :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I do not own Twilight or Made of Honor. All publicly recognizable entities belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended. Thanks to my PTB betas Batgirl8968, juji_loo, and mcc101180.

Thanks for your lovely messages for Chapter 1!

* * *

**Mate of Honor**

**Chapter 2**

"I'm sorry? You want me to be your what?" My heart has just been ripped from my chest, and she's speaking some bizarre dialect.

Bella giggles again. "My mate of honor! Isn't that the cutest?"

_Cute? _"Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?" _And my reason for living._

"You crack me up, Edward. Seriously. You see, I was talking to Benno about it—"

My defenses are instantly up. "Who's Benno?"

"My fiancé, of course! Anyway, he's an Aussie. I met him through work—he's one of the curators at the museum. We started talking at Starbucks. He bought me a coffee because I was holding up the line—it wasn't my fault, their money is all colorful and confusing and plastic. So we exchanged numbers, went out a couple of times, and really hit it off."

I hate the guy already. And what the fuck kind of name is "Benno," anyway?

Bella giggles before she continues. "One night he took me to dinner and asked if I believed in love at first sight, and it was _so romantic!_ And then we went for a walk along the pier, and he got down on one knee and asked me to _marry him!_ Isn't that the sweetest thing?"

I bite back my immediate response and go with something a little more non-committal. "Mhm."

"And you just _have_ to be in the wedding! But you can't be the 'maid' of honor, _obviously._" I can practically hear her eyes roll. "And I was telling Benno about you, and he said you could be my _mate_ of honor. You know, 'cause you're a bloke."

"I'm a what?"

She ignores me and keeps prattling. "That's the term you use here for a good friend—'mate.'" She pauses for a moment and then sounds slightly confused. "At least I'm pretty sure it is…'cause the other day, Benno said that to some guy that cut us off while we were driving…"

"Bella, you're not making any sense." _You were supposed to marry _me. _That was the plan._

"I know!" She laughs again, and I hear the sound of cutlery against a plate. "It's all happening so fast! Anyway, I was thinking of people I could ask. And I love Rose and Alice, but there's no one else I would want standing next to me. They'll be bridesmaids, of course, but…"

"So you thought of me."

"Yes!" She laughs again as if I've somehow solved all the mysteries of the world. "It's perfect, right? You don't have to get married, and I get to have you with me while I do!"

_Sure, Bella. It's fucking perfect._

"Hey, E, I gotta run—my lunch break is over. Talk soon, 'kay?"

I nod numbly and mutter something to the same effect. I toss my phone somewhere on the couch and think maybe I need a drink after all.

**~MoH~**

When I wake up, the sun is streaming rudely through my windows, and my phone buzzes obnoxiously in its place on my nightstand. I snatch it up and answer without politeness.

"H'lo?"

"Dude! What's up your ass?"

I sit up and lean against my pillows. "Emmett, do you have any idea what time it is?"

He snickers, and I wish I could reach my arm through the phone and punch the fucker in the face. "Do you? It's eleven AM, which means you're going to be late. Drag your lazy ass outta bed. I'll see you in fifteen!"

He hangs up before I can respond, and I wrench the covers from my body. After I hung up with Bella last night, I downed the rest of my beer and went for the scotch. Sadly, there were only two shots left, so I went to bed fairly sober—and alone.

I grab a t-shirt from the chair in the corner of my room and after giving it the sniff-test, pull it over my head. I yank on a pair of shorts, tie my running shoes, and grab my wallet, phone, and keys before heading out the door.

It only takes me about five minutes to walk to the park. By the time I've arrived, I've had suitable time to digest the facts. Bella is getting married. Bella isn't getting married to _me._ Bella is marrying someAustralian kangaroo-riding loser named Benno. And she's going to live with him forever and have blond-haired, Australian-talking babies that ride horses through the outback and wrestle crocodiles and surf sharks and…

"Cullen! About time you joined us!" Jasper calls to me, bouncing a soccer ball from knee to knee.

I knock fists with Emmett and give Tyler a shoulder-bump before clapping my hands and rubbing them together. "Let's do this."

Jasper tosses the ball into the air and drives a kick toward the trash cans at the end of the makeshift field that signify the goals. I take off at a sprint after the black and white ball, trapping it and juggling it between my feet, looking for where Emmett has broken away from Jasper. Tyler is headed straight for me, and I dodge him easily, leaving him in my dust. The anger that was forming on the way here is now bubbling. It seeps through my veins and burns in my muscles. I run, easily keeping the ball in control, and start to feel the ache in my chest.

Suddenly, Jasper breaks away from Emmett and comes for me.

"Dude, I'm open!" calls Em. I glance quickly to him and then back to Jasper, who has appeared in front of me. His shoulder-length, blond curly hair bounces as he runs, and suddenly, he morphs into some faceless douche called Benno.

I shove into Benno as hard as I can, sending him flying, then aim a kick straight at the trash cans. The ball sails wide, and I kick the ground in frustration.

"Fuck!"

My hands wrest through my hair, and I clench my eyes shut.

"Nice bump, Cullen!" calls Emmett. "Pity you didn't follow through with a fucking goal, though!" He jogs over to Jasper, offering him a hand.

"Edward! What gives?" cries Jasper indignantly as he is helped up from the ground. "Red card, dude!"

"Sorry, man," I tell him rather pathetically. "I don't know what came over me…"

"Bullshit," calls Tyler, jogging over. "What's the deal?"

"Bella's getting married," I mutter blandly.

"She is?" asks Emmett. "I thought she was in Australia."

Jasper shoves him. "Dude, there are people in Australia."

"Yeah, but didn't she just get there?"

"She's been there for three months," I say automatically—like I haven't been counting the days until she gets back. "She works with the guy."

"That's great!" says Tyler cheerfully before taking in my expression. His own changes instantly, and a frown falling across his face. "No, it's not. It's not great."

"No, it's not fucking great," I reiterate.

"Why not?" asks Jasper, ever the voice of reason. "I mean, she's gotta be happy, right?"

"Because it was supposed to be me!" I exclaim, punching my thumb into my chest. "It was always supposed to be me."

My blond-haired, not-Benno friend nods seriously. "Oh."

Emmett stares at me for a moment before his eyebrows rise, almost nudging his curly dark hair. "Duuuuuuude…"

"Em, don't."

"Don't what?" asks Tyler, confused.

"Dude!" Emmett says again.

"Seriously," I warn him.

"You lo—"

"Don't say it!"

"You do! You love her!"

Recognition dawns on Tyler and Jasper's faces instantly, and they turn to me, their mouths agape like a line of clowns at a carnival.

"No fucking _way!_" Jasper finds his voice. "You _are_ in love with her!"

Emmett nods triumphantly. "I knew it! I _knew_ it!" He starts doing the cabbage patch in the middle of the field like a fucking douche. "Cullen loves Bella! Cullen loves Bella!"

I throw myself at Emmett—which isn't very smart because he's a big guy—and start wrestling him to the ground. He flips me over and pins me easily before licking his finger and sticking it in my ear. I yell at the intrusion, while Jasper and Tyler drop to the ground, laughing their asses off.

The voice of a little kid, who has been tossing a football to his dad, drifts over to us. "Daddy, what are those men doing?"

The dad looks at the four of us before putting an arm around the boy and gives us a dirty look as he guides him away. "Come on son. Let's go."

"Wait," gasps Jasper between wheezes. "This is terrible!"

"I fucking know! I've been violated!" I shout in response. Emmett lets me go, and I swat at my ear, trying to rid it of slime.

"No, seriously, man," says Jas, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees. "You're in love with Bella…"

I nod, unable to deny it with any honesty.

"…And she's marrying some random guy she met in Australia."

I nod again—he speaks the truth. "But wait, it gets worse."

The guys look at me expectantly, and I pull out a handful of grass. "She asked me to be her mate of honor."

Three confused voices answer me in unison. "Her what?"

I clear my throat. "Her 'mate of honor.' The 'mate' part being because I'm a guy."

It takes three seconds for the news to sink in, and I pinpoint the instant the others get it—because they all descend into whoops of laughter.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, jackasses."

"Wait, wait," gasps Jasper. "Do you get to pick the dress?"

I roll my eyes at the others as they hold their sides and collapse with the apparent hilarity of it all. I throw the handful of grass at Jasper's face—he barely notices.

"Get a grip, you guys, this is serious!"

Emmett sits up and wipes tears from his eyes. "Sure, E. It's serious."

"Weren't you even listening?" I rest my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. "Bella is getting _married!"_

"Well, fuck that!" cries Tyler, having regained some control.

"What the hell am I supposed to _do?" _I ask redundantly because seriously—it's a done deal. I fall back onto the grass—again, not a smart move. Now, my back is wet.

"Oh, padawan," says Emmett sagely. I glance over to him as he shakes his head slowly. "Get her back, you must."

* * *

**A/N:** Who needs enemies when you've got these guys?

In other news, Yosemite Decimal is up for Fic of the Week at tehlemonadestand .net - Will you go and push my button? ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I do not own Twilight or Made of Honor. All publicly recognizable entities belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended. Thanks to my PTB betas mcc101180 and torisurfergirl.

Thoughts are with you, Newtown, CT.

* * *

**Mate of Honor**

**Chapter 3**

"Sorry, I'm late," I apologize as I take a seat at the white cloth-covered table. "I got caught up with the guys, then had to duck home to shower."

"That's fine." The blond man sitting at the table smiles at me before turning his attention back to the waitress. "Heidi and I were just talking. Weren't we, Heidi?"

The dark-haired, busty waitress titters and places a menu in front of me. "Yes, Dr. Cullen. It's been so long since you…came."

I shake my head and hold back a scoff, while the blue eyes across from me twinkle, the age creases at the corners deepening with his smile. Heidi has to be closer to my age than his. I order a beer, and Heidi sashays back to the bar. He watches her leave.

"Really, Marcus? The waitress?" I shake my head, as he smirks at me while tilting his wine glass. "When?"

"Last week." He sips and chuckles lowly.

"She's not going to be Aunt Number Five, is she?"

I catch him winking over my shoulder and twist in my seat to see Heidi blush and duck behind the bar. Girls like that, who have done who-knows-what with fifty-five-year-old men shouldn't blush. I turn my gaze back to him, and he shakes his head, giving a light shrug.

"Doesn't mean a man can't have a little fun though, does it?"

"It does when it means you ruin every favorite lunch place I have," I reply, scanning through the menu. Deciding on a steak, I drop the menu back on the table and pour a glass of water from the carafe that's sitting in the middle of the table. "We're rapidly running out of places to go because you keep fucking the staff."

"My dear boy," he mock-chastises. "I do not just _fuck_ women. I…" he pauses, picking up a menu and smirks at me over the top of it "…entertain them."

I scoff, leaning back in my chair. My uncle places his menu on top of mine, and within minutes, Heidi is back with my drink. We order, and I try to block out the shameless flirting that continues between Marcus and the waitress before she leaves us again.

"What's the matter, Edward?" he asks smoothly. "You seem…rattled."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not _rattled_. I'm merely…disconcerted."

He tilts his head slightly, and the sun streaming through the nearby window highlights the blond in his hair rather than the gray. His face turns very serious as he considers me. "Bad date?" he questions.

I screw up my nose and brush off his question. "No."

"No date?" I say nothing, and he takes my silence as an invitation to continue. "Tell me, Edward—how many ladies had the pleasure of your company last week?"

I take a draw of my beer, almost embarrassed to answer after my epiphany at the park. "Four. No…five." I met Victoria for lunch the same day Irina cooked me dinner and blew me in her kitchen.

"Hmm, so it's not lack of female attention. What could it be?" He straightens his cutlery as if they're the surgical instruments he uses every day at work.

"Bella called last night."

"Ah!" he enthuses. "How is Bella? She's such a lovely girl, that one." Marcus arches an eyebrow at me, his eyes showing too much mischief for an internationally respected surgeon of his age. "You know, there's a prospect for a good wife. Intelligent, well-spoken, and _beautiful._ You know, if you don't make a move on her soon, I might beat you to the punch."

"Too late," I remark dryly. "She's engaged."

"Ah, that's too bad," he says, shaking his head. "I'm happy for her, though. She did want to settle down, didn't she? Shall we drink to her happiness?" He holds his glass high before lowering it slowly upon seeing my expression. "Oh."

"Hmm?" I gently tap each of my fingers on the table in sequence before going back the other way.

"You're in love with her."

I avoid his gaze. "What is it with everyone saying that today?"

"So it's true," he comments softly. I can't lie to him—he has come to know me very well since I've been living in Chicago. It's possible he knows me better than anyone—apart from Bella, of course. I shrug; my words will definitely give me away.

"Ah, Edward." When I look at him, he looks as serious as I've ever seen him. "Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask bitterly.

He swirls his wine glass, staring intently as the liquid moves. "Don't make the same mistakes I did."

"What mistakes?" He sets down the glass as Heidi places our plates in front of us. She asks if we want anything else, but my uncle waves her off without making eye contact before picking up his knife and fork.

"Please," he remarks. "I've made plenty—four rather significant ones. But the biggest one was messing up the best thing I ever had and hurting the only woman I'll ever love."

I pick up my own cutlery and think back to wife number three. "Elizabeth?" She lasted ten months before she and my uncle parted ways. Shame, really. I liked her—and one of her bridesmaids was very, very attractive.

He laughs dryly, without humor. "You know she was only after me for my money." He takes a bite of his salad, chews thoughtfully, and swallows. "That's all any of them were ever after…well, except for one. I mean my first wife, Didyme"

I think as hard as I can, but her name isn't familiar. "What happened to her?"

He chuckles dryly, depreciatingly. "She was too smart for me. I thought otherwise, but really, she deserved better."

"You still love her?"

"Of course. No one ever took her place." He starts slicing his meal. "No one ever will." He considers me carefully. "You know, Edward, I see a lot of myself in you."

I develop a sudden interest in making sure my steak is properly covered in mushroom sauce. When I was younger, I _never_ thought myself to be the marrying type—except for the deal made at age fifteen—and I know, realistically, that it probably doesn't really make sense.

My parents have been happily married for forever—the result of love at first sight. Mom was visiting a friend in her dorm room at college, and Dad, like the suave motherfucker he is, opened a door to the building for her, and then because that wasn't enough, he walked her to her car to open _that_ door.

Yeah, he's nothing if not thorough.

Anyway, their eyes met and they fell in love—and the rest, as they say, is happily-ever-after history.

My uncle, however, is more like my grandfather, Edward Cullen II. While my dad swore to never be like his father, his brother idolized him. They both medicine, but that's where the similarities between my dad and my namesake end.

Mom didn't care for her father-in-law's womanizing ways; neither does she approve of my regularly…_entertaining_ women. I think she always hoped I'd find the woman that would make me change my ways. I'm not sure my mom realizes that the woman that would make me delete every first-name-only contact in my phone is the same girl that gave me my first kiss.

"Edward?" Marcus' voice breaks into my train of thought, and I glance at him. "Don't make my mistakes. Do what you have to do…" he raises his glass to me "…but don't let her get away."

—**MoH—**

The leather on my chair creaks, and I swivel to observe the skyline. My creative mojo has gone, and my designs all look amateur.

"Mr. Cullen? Would you like a coffee? I'm just going to pop out for a minute." Swinging back around to face the doorway, I notice my assistant is looking at me with concern. "Or perhaps a juice would be better." She nods toward the tower I've made out of empty coffee cups. It's a fucking work of art. "Perhaps you've had enough coffee for today."

I chuckle, and it comes out sounding a little crazy. I might be just a _little_ strung out. After the whole "I'm in love with Bella" epiphany of three days ago, I've been sleeping kinda badly. Then this morning, I woke up at four AM and couldn't go back to sleep. I started plotting ways to put a stop to this whole engagement/wedding fiasco, before giving up and coming into work early.

"That'd be great. Thanks." Shelly seems to always have this instinct of knowing what I need. It's just one of the reasons why I trust her.

She buttons her coat. "Are you okay? You seem out of sorts."

The excess caffeine zipping through my system seems to have completely removed my verbal filter. "My best friend is getting married. She wants me to be in the wedding," I blurt out.

"Miss Swan? Ah, how lovely!" Shelly smiles warmly, before the smile disappears and her expression is replaced with confusion. "Although, I have to say, Mr. Cullen, I thought _you_ would be the one to marry Miss Swan. You always seem so attuned to each other."

I rest my head back and close my eyes. "Me, too," I tell her. "She wants me to be her 'mate of honor.'" I open one eye as Shelly opens her mouth to speak. "Don't ask."

"Hmm," she muses. "Now, I don't mean to pry, but you don't appear to be entirely thrilled with this proposition."

Shaking my head, I agree with her. "I'm not. I mean, I want her to be happy, but…"

"Well, I'd never suggest messing with the sanctity of marriage," she says, and her words hold more seriousness than her voice, "but if the match isn't one of true love, it seems best to make sure it doesn't go ahead."

My eyes widen at the candor of my assistant. "What are you saying?"

"I've worked for you for a long time, Mr. Cullen, and I'd like to think I can anticipate your requests," she begins, and I indicate for her to continue. "I'd suggest that having a close proximity in the wedding party might give you more…opportunities than if you were an outsider."

My face breaks out into a smirk, and I think I get her drift. "So, you're saying…"

"I'm not saying anything, Mr. Cullen," she replies lightly, a twinkle in her aging eyes. "But don't you think it would be best to be closest to Miss Swan during her wedding? I mean…weddings can be very stressful occasions for young ladies. Unpredictable. I'm merely suggesting it would be nice if you were there for your friend." She takes a scarf from the hook by the door and wraps it around her neck. One eyebrow rises ever so slightly. "Especially if things don't go the way she initially planned."

I grin—who'd have known Shelly Cope could be such a schemer?

She waves goodbye, gives me a wicked grin for a lady of her age, and closes the office door behind her.

I get the sudden urge to call Bella, so I dial her number and doodle on my sketchpad as I wait for her voice to come through the speaker. She takes longer than normal to pick up.

"Mmmello?"

"Bella, hi!" My voice carries the telltale edge of too many cups of coffee. "How are you? What are you up to?"

"MmmEdward?"

"Of course it's me. What's news?"

"Huh? News?"

I cough nervously, then roll my eyes at myself. I'm never nervous. Not with Bella—not with anyone. "Yeah. What are you doing now?"

She groans, and I shift a little in my seat. "Sleeping. It's four AM."

Slapping my palm against my forehead, I realize that I'm an ass. "Fuck, Bella, I'm sorry. I forgot about the time difference."

"Yeah, sure," she mutters. "Easy mistake to make. What's up?"

"Oh, nothing. Just wanted to check in."

"Okay. I'm good. Can I sleep now? Tired…" Her voice trails off, and I'm pretty sure I've almost lost her to sleep.

"Sure," I tell her softly. "Oh, before you go, I just wanted to tell you…" I clear my throat "…I'll do the whole 'be in the wedding' thing."

She sounds much more awake all of a sudden. "You will? Oh, Edward! Thank you!"

I smile, wheels starting to turn in my head. I think I'm going to need my wingmen to pull this off. "Go, sleep. I'll talk to you soon. I miss you."

"I miss you, too, E. Pick me up at the airport next week?"

"Of course. Talk soon?"

"Will do." She yawns. "Night, E."

"Bye…" There's a soft click, and the call ends. I test the word out. "…love."

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks to Midnight Cougar for the rec on Rob Attack, and to everyone who has read, recommended and reviewed—I'm sorry I haven't responded to everyone, but please know I appreciate every word.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I do not own Twilight or Made of Honor. All publicly recognizable entities belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended. Thanks to my PTB betas shouvley and Marly.

* * *

**Mate of Honor**

**Chapter 4**

Flowers.

Why am I standing in the middle of O'Hare International Airport like a douche, holding a bunch of fucking flowers?

Oh yeah, because I'm apparently fucking gullible.

Jasper swore up and down this would work. He thinks that if I stand here with a bunch of flowers, it's going to change the fact that _Bella is engaged—_and not to me.

I suppose I _was_ like my grandfather in that I was more of a "love 'em and leave 'em" kinda guy. I know that makes me sound like an asshole, but I was straight up with them from the beginning. Some of them thought they could change me, but hell—it is what it…was.

I say _was…_because not anymore. It's been over two weeks since I went on a date and longer since I've had sex.

Bella, on the other hand, is pretty much the opposite. She's the hopeless romantic of the two of us. A serial monogamist who's fallen into deep, all-consuming love on many occasions. While I have lots of sex outside relationships, she has sex _in_ relationships…and she's had _lots_ of them—the longest of which lasted eight months.

The problem is not her; it's the fact that she's a terrible fucking judge of character. She's found them all—the ones who treat her badly, the ones that take advantage of her good nature and amazing cooking skills, and the ones who think she'll be the perfect piece of unintelligent arm candy. Things break down when they realize they can't change her, or when she realizes that she's been dating an idiot.

There was Alistair, the accountant, who wanted to help her consolidate her filing system and rationalize her portfolio. He didn't care that Bella is _the_ most disorganized person ever and prides herself on having a box of unopened mail including bills from two years ago. He left when she declared she was never going to change. Then came Paul, the pretty boy. That didn't work out, because apparently he was prettier than she was—not fucking likely, but that's what she thought. That relationship ended when she found him trying to squish his feet into a pair of her shoes. Apparently the ones with red soles were extra special and pretty much fucked after he'd finished with them.

I bought her a new pair. She forgot about him pretty soon after that.

Stefan was a doctor she met at a hospital benefit she attended with me. Stefan idolized my uncle and found it hard to fit Bella into his schedule around his commitments to work and two of the nurses on his shift. Brady was a mouth breather who was thirty-five and lived with his mom, who packed his lunch every day—he'd expected Bella to do the same. Diego had serious problems with the fact that Bella's best friend was me and told her to choose—she did. Fred was basically an asshole who existed inside his own little bubble and expected Bella to follow suit. And Mike…well…

We don't talk about Mike.

Bella likes to remind me I'm a man-whore, and in return I remind her that she's a relationship-whore, and we're both okay with that. Well, I was until last week. It hit me that I don't want to date indiscriminately, and I've been treading water all this time. A bit of soul-searching, Emmett accusing me—accurately—of being in love with Bella all along, and a not-so-subtle hint from Shelly that I need to pull my head out of my ass has led me to realize that instead of waiting for the whole "until we're thirty" thing, I could be with Bella _now. _Except for the small detail that she's engaged.

So, with the guys' help over several beers, we made The Plan.

Nowhere in The Plan did it say I needed to stand here like a douche, in the international terminal of an airport, holding a bunch of fucking flowers.

A quick glance at the arrivals screen tells me Bella's flight landed thirty minutes ago. I straighten my tie—Tyler's contribution to The Plan—and start to scan the crowd for her.

Finding Bella in a crowd is never easy. She's not exactly tall, even when she's wearing high heels, so she tends to be easily missed. But I can tell you now, it's like the Red Sea parting when the crowd shifts.

My heart stops as I gaze at the woman who stands on the other side of the terminal, smiling.

My Bella is an attractive girl; this is something I've always known. There's a good reason she's not single for long; if it's not her sweet nature that hooks them, it's her looks. In bare feet, the top of her chestnut-brown head reaches just below my chin. She's petite, yet curvy. So many slim girls have bodies like popsicle sticks—all straight up and down, but not my Bella. And when she asks if her jeans make her ass look big, I'm always happy that I can answer her honestly—no fucking way; nothing does.

But now…damn.

I'm not sure if it's due to my Emmett-assisted epiphany, but she looks different. Although she's flight-ruffled and dressed casually in jeans and a sweater, a coat looped over one arm and backpack slung over one shoulder, her eyes are brighter and her skin shows the warm hint of a tan. It stands out against the sea of pasty-white faces in the airport.

She hasn't seen me yet, so I take a moment to observe. Despite spending so long in the air, she seems well-rested. Bella has always had the knack of being able to sleep on planes. Me…not so much. Flying makes me nervous. I mean…big, heavy, metal, objects just shouldn't be able to lift off the fucking ground, let alone be allowed to move high up in the air over water. It's just not right.

I can't help but smile as I watch her. She's been my best friend for as long as I can remember, but now she's so much…more. And I'm an idiot, because it took her being someone else's for me to realize it. She pops up onto the tiptoes of her sneakers, trying to look above the sea of heads and succeeding in making her slim legs look longer. She freezes when she spots me, and a huge grin spreads across her face.

With her pull-along case tapping at her ankles as she strides across the shiny floor, she dodges people and throws a glare at a pushy-looking businessman who careens into her. She tries to hurry, which only makes the bag bump her feet more. The bag takes a final swing through the air, knocking her feet from under her as she falls into my arms, and it feels like this is where she was meant to be.

"Hey," I greet her, hugging her tighter.

"Hi," she answers, pressing her face into my chest. "I missed you."

I smile into her hair. "I missed you, too." She makes a move to pull back, but I hold her tighter. "Not finished," I mumble.

She chuckles and returns my hug for a moment before placing a hand on my chest, directing me back to arm's length. "You need a haircut," she observes.

I run a hand through said hair and kick myself for not thinking of that myself. A big part of The Plan is that I need to make a good impression, which I thought I'd done with the tie thing.

The tie, she notices. She picks it up loosely, drawing it out and letting it slide through her fingers. I'm a strong, take-charge kind of guy, but part of me wants her to grip harder and pull me closer. "And what's this? Big meeting to go to?"

I grin—although it probably comes across as a smirk—and give her a small shrug. "Just felt like it."

With her eyebrows raised, she nods disbelievingly. "Uh huh." Her eyes shift, and she notices the flowers. "And these?"

I pluck one of the daisies from the bouquet and gently run it down the side of her face, stopping at her chin. "These are for you."

Her eyes widen. "Me? Really?" She smiles with her lips, and her whole face joins in. "Thank you!"

I taking her coat and hold it out. She slips her arms in, buttons it, and tightens the tie. I swallow thickly as I watch her fingers nimbly move through the buttons.

After getting a mental grip, I reach for her bag, choosing to pick it up by the handle rather than risk it tripping me, and hold my elbow out for her to take. She bats her lashes at me in return, and I laugh. "Your chariot awaits."

She dips her head slightly, eyeing me warily. "The Volvo?"

I give her a wink. "The Aston."

She flutters her eyelids and presses a hand to her chest. "Oh, Edward! Is it a special occasion?"

"Of course it is," I tell her simply. "My best friend is home."

"Can I drive?"

"Not a chance."

We walk to the parking garage and I place her bag in the trunk—sneakily checking the duco of the DB5 for scratches—before getting in and turning the key. The car purrs to life, and Bella makes a similar sound beside me. She loves this car, and I love her in it. I pull out of the parking spot and start to make my way toward the exit. Bella gasps and grabs onto the dash.

"Are you okay?" I ask her warily.

"Sorry," she says, putting a hand to her chest. I try to keep my eyes on the road. "Just panicked a little. I've been so used to driving on the other side."

I grin, because she's adorable. _Adorable?_

As we move through the streets, the reflection of the streetlights bounces off the silver hood of the car. Bella's head reclines against the soft leather as she gazes out the window, watching the city pass by.

"I loved Australia, but damn, it's good to be home."

_It's good to have you home. _I just smile in return and reach over to pat her hand.

She sighs. "I'm starving. Airplane food is disgusting."

I grin. _That's my girl._ "Late dinner?"

Her eyes light up as she straightens and turns in her seat to face me. "God, yes!"

Shifting a little at the thought of all the ways I could hear her utter those words, I concentrate on not letting my voice squeak like a thirteen-year-old's. "What do you feel like?"

_Fuck. I'd like to know what _she_ feels like._

Oblivious to my internal struggle, she shrieks. "Like you have to ask!"

I downshift gears as we reach a red light and turn slightly to look at her. "Okay. But no mushrooms." She raises her eyebrows at me, and I acquiesce. "_Fine_, I'll pick them off."

Mushrooms, flowers, the tie—the grin she gives me makes it all worth it.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! I may not update next week as I'll be spending some quality time with my family. I just want to wish you all a safe, happy, and healthy holiday season. Please stay safe if you're travelling anywhere. Happy holiday! xoxo


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Thanks to my PTB betas: Anthrobug, Shouvley and Mel. Twilight and Made of Honor belong to their owners.

* * *

**Mate of Honor**

**Chapter 5**

As we sit in the family-owned, hole-in-the-wall pizzeria, the owner's daughter, Sophie, places the pie between Bella and me. I mutter my thanks and take Bella's plate to serve her a slice. When I slide the plate back in front of her, Sophie has left and Bella has her eyebrows raised at me.

"What?" I ask. Her eyebrows rise higher, and her eyes widen. I question her again. "What?"

She shakes her head and picks up her pizza. Her eyebrows are still higher than they normally are. "Nothing," she says, her tone incredulous. I cock an eyebrow—a trait I learned from my mom—and she caves. "E, Sophie all but sat in your lap, and you totally ignored her."

I shrug and take a slice for myself. The cheese stretches as I place the slice on my own plate, and I pull at it with my fingers.

"Did you already?" Bella asks seriously.

"What? Sophie? No!" I cry, a little insulted. Shaking my head, I take a bite of my pizza.

She drops her slice back onto her plate, wipes her hands on a napkin, and folds her arms. "Okay. Out with it."

"Out with what?"

"You're being weird."

"I'm not being weird."

She nods. "Yeah, you are. What's gotten into you?" She clears her throat. "Or should I say, who have _you_ gotten yourself into?"

I shudder but try to pass it off as a shrug. "Nobody."

She narrows her eyes at me and picks up her slice. "Nobody?" she asks skeptically.

I shake my head as I chew.

"Since when?" Her tone is wary. She sips her Coke.

"Two weeks."

Bella splutters then chokes on her Coke. Her eyes water as she coughs and pounds herself on the chest. "Two _weeks?_ _You_ haven't had sex in two weeks?"

People are starting to look, and I smile at them nervously as I pass Bella a handful of napkins. "Longer. I haven't been on a _date_ in two weeks."

"But…but…but…" She splutters again. "Why?"

"Because I'm done," I tell her simply. Certain that her eyes are about to fall out of her head, I continue. "I just figure there must be more to life than just screwing around."

"But what about Tanya?"

"She's gone."

"Victoria?"

"Gone."

Bella turns her head slightly but keeps eye contact. "Irina?"

"Gone."

"The one that always had lipstick on her teeth and bad foundation?"

_What's foundation? _"Maria? She's gone too."

She falls back into the red vinyl of the booth. "Damn."

I take a bite, letting the cheese strings hang between the slice and my teeth, like the silence over our table.

"I don't know what to say."

_Tell me you'll marry _me_,_ I think. Instead I come up with, "I'm trying something different."

"Wow," she says breathily. Her next words are quiet, and I can barely hear her. "Maybe you _are_ the right kind of guy to give me advice about my dress for the wedding."

I stare at her for a moment—I don't get it. So I shrug.

As we eat, Bella stares at the tabletop; the shiny surface is dulled in some places with years and years of wiping. I watch her as she sips her drink and chews on the straw. It's always been like this with us—we can shoot words back and forth for hours, but silence is okay, too. After the pizza disappears—as always with Bella, there are no leftovers—she blinks a few times then dabs at her mouth with her napkin. Her voice is muted and sleepy-sounding. "I'm pretty tired."

I wave at Sophie for the check and grab my stuff. After I insist on paying, we grab our coats from the hook by the door and head for the car.

Bella doesn't say much on the car ride home, and I catch her watching the lights flash by. As We roll up in the visitors' section of the parking lot of Bella's apartment building, I kill the ignition and hoist myself out of the car. Her lips stretch into a yawn, and she leans against my arm as the elevator takes us to her floor. She unlocks the door and flips on the lights. I place her bag by the couch, and she turns to give me a hug.

"Thanks, E."

I breathe in the natural scent of Bella that lingers in her hair. It's masked a little by the airplane, but it's there. "Anytime."

—**MOH—**

Jasper leans back on my couch, and he rests the ankle of one leg on the other knee. "How'd it go?"

I pass him a beer and take a seat in a chair opposite. "Fine. We had dinner, and I gave her a lift home."

"Did you tell her?" asks Emmett as he flips through the channels with the remote, stopping when he reaches ESPN.

"Dude, he can't just _tell_ her," Jasper tells him, sounding disbelieving. "What's he gonna say?" He alters his voice, presumably in an attempt to sound like me. "'Bella, I don't think you should marry the Australian because I'm in love with you. Marry me, and come live in my bachelor pad instead. I'll make you your own chair instead of giving you an engagement ring.'"

I throw a bottle cap at him. "I do not sound like that!" Jasper retrieves the cap and tosses it back.

Meanwhile, Emmett stares at Jas as if he's missing an important point. "Well, yeah. Isn't honesty the best policy?"

I roll my eyes in Emmett's direction. He's an engineering professor and borderline genius, but he says some really stupid shit sometimes. "I don't think that'd go over too well."

He shrugs. "I still think that's the best idea."

After reaching for my own beer that sits on the coffee table, I settle back into my seat. "I think you're an idiot. Seriously, Em? She's getting married."

"Exactly—which is why you should tell her."

"No, no, Edward's right," says Jasper, resting both feet on the floor and leaning forward. "There's gotta be so much more to it than that. We've been going about this all wrong." He rubs his eyebrows with his free hand. "We need Tyler. Tyler'd have a better idea."

Emmett makes a snort of disgust. "Please. Tyler's been married for years. He's totally whipped."

"Exactly. He _gets women._ I mean, he's the only one of us who _is_ married." Jasper looks pointedly from Emmett to me. We both stare blankly back at him. "And he has two daughters. If there's anyone who knows what girls are like, it's him." As he finishes his sentence, he sets down his beer and pulls out his phone, punching at the screen before setting it down on the coffee table. The sound of ringing comes from the speaker.

"Yeah?" Tyler's voice comes through, rising above the sound of shrieking and clattering.

"Dude! We need your help. Emmett thinks Edward should just tell Bella to marry him instead."

"Wait a sec…Kristie! Don't hit your sister! No, I don't care if she took your Barbie, that doesn't make it right! If you leave her alone, I'll put on that stupid show you like. No, 'stupid' isn't a bad word. Okay, well if Mommy said it is, it must be…there." The shouting stops, the sounds of TV music sounds fainter though the phone, and he speaks to us again in a normal volume. "I don't know why they like this show. It's annoying as fuck, and one of the characters looks like a dildo. Sorry guys, what'd you say?"

Jasper looks at us with concern; he now seemingly doubts his plan to call the great and powerful Tyler.

"Everything okay over there, man?" booms Emmett, the laugh he's been failing to hold in sneaking into his voice. A snicker escapes my own lips—I try to bottle it with my beer.

Through the phone, Tyler sighs. "Lauren's at a yoga class or some shit. I was trying to give her a break, you know. Give her a night off?" He snorts. "Yeah, bad fucking idea. I didn't know the girls went to a birthday party today, and now they're all hopped up on sugar." He sounds like a broken man when he speaks again. "No fucking wonder Lauren bolted."

That's it—I can't hold it in. I crack up laughing, and Jasper and Emmett do the same. Tyler's tinny voice comes through the speaker. "Yeah, really funny, jackasses. You just wait until you're married. You'll offer to do something nice for your wives, and it'll blow up in your faces. Fuck, every day I stop million-dollar law firms from having their asses sued, but I'm telling you now, it takes a real man to build a world-dominating, pink army out of a dozen Polly Pockets."

I can see Emmett's enquiring mind ticking—he can't stand not knowing anything. "Dude, a Folly what?"

Again, Tyler sighs. "Never mind. Look, Edward? I think the best way to go about it is not to try and tear down the other guy. You need to be the absolute best guy you can be. Turn on the charm, tone down the sleaze—"

"Sleaze?" I interrupt. "I'm not sleazy…am I?" Jasper and Emmett both nod. I sink back in my chair.

"You can be, yes. But be _that guy_ that Bella turns to throughout this whole wedding biz. Anticipate her every need. Support everything she does, offer your opinion without shooting down hers, and totally kick ass at being a maid of honor."

"Funny, that's kinda what Mrs. Cope said."

"That's because Mrs. Cope knows her shit." The phone gets scratchy as Tyler seems to cover the mouthpiece with his hand. "Sure, honey. But just one." His voice becomes clear again. "Look, guys, I gotta go. It'll be fine, Edward. I'll see you guys at the park on Saturday." We all say goodbye, and Jasper re-pockets his phone.

Emmett claps his hands together. "Right, well, I guess The Plan better include learning about this maid of honor shit. I think we should consult someone who knows everything about the universe."

I give him a quizzical look over the top of my beer. "Yoda?"

"No." Emmett shakes his head and leans forward, his elbows braced on his knees. "Google."

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading. I'm sorry for the delay in posting—I've had a really hard time with writers' block lately, so I appreciate your patience. Big thanks to Nat for nominating Mate of Honor for Fic of the Week, and welcome to everyone that found MoH through The Lemonade Stand. If anybody has recc'ed MoH elsewhere, let me know so I can give them big smooches.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Thanks to my PTB betas DeanWinchester-myheart and mcc01180. I do not own Twilight or Made of Honor. All publicly recognizable entities belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**Mate of Honor**

**Chapter 6**

Jasper reclines on the park bench, scrolling through his phone. "You need to help choose the invitations. You also need to help address them if the bride so requires."

"I have to address her wedding invitations? It _really_ says that?" I let my head fall back and stare up at the cloudy sky through the bare trees that provides no shelter.

"What does it say about the dress he has to wear?" Emmett interrupts, in between bouncing the soccer ball from one knee to the other.

I direct my words toward the tree branches. "Fuck off, Emmett. I don't have to wear a dress."

"How do you know?" he taunts. "Does it say that, Jas?"

Jasper's brow furrows as he swipes at the screen. "No, but you do have to help pick out hers. _And_ the ones for the bridesmaids."

Emmett catches the ball out of the air and sets it on his hip. "Shopping? Like, _girl_ shopping?"

My head falls back again, and I'm too mentally exhausted to fight it. Even though Bella hasn't set a date yet, I'm already drained. I close my eyes for good measure. "That's the general idea, Emmett."

"It says here you have to help with accessories, shoes, and jewelry."

"Accessories?"

"Yeah," replies Jasper. "Like handbags and shit." His brow furrows. "I think. Although in your case, that might mean a tie."

"What the fuck do I know about accessories?" I sit up and lean forward, pressing my elbows into my knees and putting my head in my hands. "Fuck this—tell me why I signed up for this shit again?"

Tyler comes jogging up to our little group. "What shit?"

Emmett fills him in. "Edward has to go shopping for _accessories_."

Tyler's eyes widen and he shakes his head, a sympathetic look on his face. "Dude, I'm really sorry."

"Come on," says Jasper. It sounds like he's trying to add some cheer to the conversation. "This could _definitely_ work to his advantage."

Tyler, Emmett, and I all look at Jasper as if he's lost his fucking mind. Which I think he might have.

"Hear me out," he says, his hands in the air. "Think of the dress shopping."

I glance at Tyler and Emmett. They look as confused as I feel. Emmett speaks for all of us. "Um, Jasper? You wanna hand in your man-card? You're getting excited about _shopping_." He gives our blond-haired friend an incredulous look. "For _dresses_."

"Shit, Emmett, for a smart guy, you're pretty fucking stupid sometimes." Jasper stuffs his phone into his backpack and gestures for the ball. Emmett tosses it to him. "What happens when women shop for dresses?"

"I know this one," pipes up Tyler, raising his hand. He looks like he's trying to be top of the fucking class. "They walk for a really long fucking time, drink coffee, walk some more, talk, and try on every fucking dress in the fucking place while you have to sit and—"

"Ha!" exclaims Jasper, dropping the ball and pointing a finger directly at Tyler's face. He points said finger repeatedly to add emphasis to his next words. "They try. Shit. On."

"Oh ho!" booms Emmett, pumping his fist. "Can we come too?" He looks at Jasper and offers his fist, which Jasper bumps enthusiastically with a smirk on his face. "Bella, Alice, the cousin, and"—he sighs—"Rosalie. Naked. Or in underwear."

"Hey!" I stand up suddenly and shove him in the shoulder. Stupid on my part, because he's huge. Thankfully he lets it slide. "Don't go picturing Bella in her underwear!"

"Too late," says Jasper quietly. I shove him too, call him a douche, pick up the ball, and start to walk toward the open space we use as our soccer field. "I can do this," I tell them confidently. "School me. What else does this job entail?"

—**MOH—**

Over the next few days, I concentrate on learning all I can about being the best mate of honor I can. By the time I meet Bella for lunch on Friday, I can list all of the duties, expectations, rules, regulations, stipulations, and improvisations that will make me the best fucking…whatever that has ever been in any wedding in the history of weddings everywhere.

Not gonna lie, though. The bachelorette party makes me nervous as hell.

When the bell rings above the door of our favorite little deli, Bella's enthusiastic smile and the bounce in her step reminds me of why I'm doing all of this. She swoops in to plant a kiss on my cheek before plonking herself on a chair across from me. She orders a coffee, giving her bright grin to the waitress, then reaches across to pat me on the hand. I flip mine and hold hers. She pauses for a moment, before relaxing her fingers in my palm.

"What are you having?" she asks, picking up the menu with her free hand and turning it over.

"Same as usual," I reply, keeping my eyes on her.

"Yeah, me too." She places the menu back on top of mine, gives my hand a gentle squeeze, and draws hers away. I immediately miss the contact but let her go. "How are the guys?"

"Good," I tell her. "We still play soccer in the park every week."

"You guys will be doing that forever," she muses, picking up her water glass and taking a sip. "Except maybe Tyler. Is he even allowed to go out?"

I shrug. "Soccer, yes. Beers, not so much these days."

"I guess not," she muses before shuddering. "God, I hope I'm not that kind of wife."

My stomach clenches, and I change the subject.

Lunch goes the same as usual. I ask her about Benno—a name I still can't take seriously—and she briefly asks if I'm seeing anybody. When I tell her no, she raises an eyebrow and chews her sandwich thoughtfully but says nothing further. It's a little weird.

When we finish, I pick up the tab, and we wander into the street. "What are you doing now?" I ask her.

Bella bites her lip and hitches her bag higher on her shoulder. "Um, I actually have to check out some flowers."

I plaster a smile on my face. "Mind if I join you?"

Her jaw goes slack for the briefest of moments before she controls her expression again. "You want to come?"

I'm still smiling. "Of course." I turn my smile up a notch. "I'm standing beside you at your wedding, aren't I?"

Bella's grin lights up her face. "Well, great! Let's go!"

Buoyed by her enthusiasm, I offer her my arm. "Allow me."

Thirty minutes later, I'm not smiling quite so wide—I'm sniffling, and my eyes are running.

"Oh, Edward." Bella digs into her purse, pulling out a Kleenex and hands it to me. "I forgot about your allergies. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," I respond, my vision blurred. I sniff for added measure. "It's no big deal." My nasally voice highlights my lie for me.

"Can I get you anything?" she asks, picking up a bunch of large white flowers to sniff them. I sneeze. "Fuck, I'm sorry." She sets the flowers back down on the bench and flaps her hands slightly, as if she doesn't know what to do with them. She settles with reaching for mine then, noticing the wadded-up tissue I'm still holding, settles for crossing her arms across her chest.

I sneeze. Again.

Her phone rings, drowning out the sound of me blowing my nose, and she grins at the screen before putting the phone to her ear. "Benno! Hi!"

I roll my watery eyes.

"You _are?_" Bella's screech rings out through the busy flower shop. "Oh my god! That's amazing! I can't wait!" She mouths something at me, but my eyes don't allow me to see. "Fantastic! Send me the details!" She glances at me and then turns her back. Although she lowers her voice, I still hear. "You too. Yeah. Okay. Bye."

Her face is alight when she turns back to me. I wipe my nose again. "Benno?" I ask.

"Yes!" Bella bounces on her toes. "He's coming here!"

"_Here?"_ I ask, like I shouldn't be surprised. He's her fucking fiancé; of course he's got to come here at some point. "When?"

"He wanted to surprise me," she says with a giggle. "He'll be here on Monday!"

"Monday?" I ask. "That's two days away."

She's scrolling through her phone. "Yeah. You'll finally be able to meet him!" She moves in to hug me but pulls back at the last moment, just in time for me to sneeze. Again.

"Great." I try to inject enthusiasm in my voice, but it doesn't happen. I think I sneezed it all out. "I can't wait."

Bella, boosted from her phone call, dives back into her flower choosing with renewed enthusiasm. As I trail behind her, a pathetic picture with my flowing snot and running eyes, I'm struck by the fact that Benno is coming _here_. Which means The Plan mustn't be working.

In just two days, the kangaroo cowboy will be here, and I suspect he'll want to spend time with my Bella.

I don't want to share. It's time to bring on my A-game.

* * *

**A/N:** Big apologies for being a review reply fail. I love your words about this story...thanks for sharing them! I'm posting this although my computer smells like it's burning. There was smoke earlier, but it appears to be gone now. Hitting post before it self destructs. Til next time!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **I do not own Twilight or Made of Honor. All publicly recognizable entities belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended. Thankyou TwiSNfan for being you. Thanks also to my PTB betas, GetDrunkOnVictory and Gigi Scott.

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**Mate of Honor**

**Chapter 7**

The heavy, rhythmic thud of my sneakers against the treadmill lulls me into an almost meditative state. The sound, combined with the _in-for-two, out-for-two_ cadence of my breathing, is oddly comforting despite the burn in my lungs, and I let my brain drift into the events of the past few days.

After the eye-burning snotfest that was flower shopping, I bid Bella farewell as she called up her girlfriends to squeal and what-the-fuck-ever over the fact that Benno, the shark-surfing fiancé, was coming here. The bell to the store signified my step into the busy street and relatively pollen-free air, and I got out of there as quickly as I could.

I went out for beers with Jasper that night, and it rapidly turned into a game of dodge the walking, breathing, zombies of fucks past. I left the bar sober and alone, chased by the scent of A-something's overpowering perfume and her extended claw trying to give me her phone number. The barfly's perfume reminded me of inhaling variations of the same, overpowering scent on countless pillows, which reminded me that, oh yeah, _I'm an ass_ who's about to watch his best friend reunite with her likely-to-be-lifetime love. And that is all because I didn't get a fucking clue earlier, and I left my run too late.

_In-for-two, out-for-two. In-for-two, out-for-two._

When I woke the next morning, I was almost stunned to find the other side of my bed empty. It had seemed like only seconds ago, Bella had been curled up against me, her warm body draped across my chest and her legs tangled with mine. Thankfully, I'd woken before I found myself in a sticky situation, and I'd had to take matters into my own hands in the shower.

It didn't take long for the rushing hot water and my overactive imagination to allow me to picture myself with. She'd wordlessly stepped into the shower with me, her hands sliding across my soaped-up chest, before wrapping her hands around me. I tipped my head down to kiss her, letting my tongue slide into her willing mouth and tasting everything I'd dreamed of for fifteen years. My lips moved down her jaw as her breath caught, nipping and pressing open mouthed kisses down the column of her throat before attentively worshipping her perfect breasts. Bella's moans filled the bathroom, her breath becoming faster and sounds coming in whimpered gasps as I'd moved my mouth lower, and lower. One leg tossed over one of my shoulders as I dived into...

That's about as long as the shower lasted. God, if I ever end up in that situation for real, I'm going to need to work on my stamina.

_In-for-two, out-for-two._

Quickly shifting my thoughts to my grandmother's goodbye kisses—she'd always insisted on trying to kiss me on the mouth—I talk down the rising problem that threatens to make the rest of my run very uncomfortable. My time is far more productively used trying to figure out how to step up my efforts in winning Bella over.

_A-game. A-game. A-ga—_

_Shit!_

My steps falter and the treadmill spits me off the back. I hit the wall behind me with a thud and scramble to get out of the way of the rotating floor of the exercise equipment that, from this angle, looks incredibly menacing and ready to chew me up, starting with my hair.

I rest my head against the wall, panting heavily, and try and catch my breath. The thought that caused my rapid dismount from the treadmill is now doing teasing circles around my brain.

When it comes to Bella, _I have no A-game._

Everything I know about how to win a woman over, every trick I've learned to get them into bed, every charm that has worked, my whole womanizing repertoire that has been honed over the years has all amounted to nothing. The gifts, the sweeping weekends away, the high-class dinners in fancy restaurants—none of it will work. That's not Bella's style, and besides, she knows my every trick—she's seen them in action.

I am officially fucked.

Raising myself on shaky legs, I kill the switch on the treadmill and grab my towel from the bar, padding down my neck and face before looping the cloth around my shoulders. I down about half of my bottle of water and leave the building's gym, finishing off my water as I head back up to my apartment. My phone chimes with a text message as I set my water bottle on the counter.

**Hey. Are you free this afternoon? I need a ride. B**

Although I _know _she needs a lift somewhere, my body automatically reacts. I shift uncomfortably and I shoot back a reply that I'll pick her up in thirty minutes, knowing I don't having anything pressing to do this afternoon. She replies, telling me to bring the Merc. I shrug it off—a car's a car.

As promised, arriving in my Mercedes in a much calmer state—having rather efficiently dealt with my problem earlier—I knock on Bella's door. She answers brightly, a large purse slung over her shoulder and her coat already on.

"And who said chivalry was dead," she says with a laugh, taking my offered arm. I dip my shades down my nose a little and give her a smirk in return. Then she giggles.

Giggles.

_Interesting._

"Thanks for this, E. I really appreciate it."

"No problem," I reply, hitting the lift button for the parking garage. She squeezes my arm a little and leans her head just below my shoulder. Her forehead is right there, so I twist slightly and press a light kiss to her skin. Bella sighs and I enjoy the moment.

When we reach the parking garage, I open her door for her and she makes another comment about gallant gestures. I round the car and slide in, enjoying the hum of the vehicle around us when I turn the key. Bella tells me to get on the Kennedy Expressway, and I feel my stomach drop. I do my best to keep the gut-dropping feeling from coming through in my voice.

"So, uh, where're we going?"

Knowing Bella, she's rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses. "O'Hare." She doesn't have to make a sound for me to hear the silent "_duh_."

"The airport?"

"Well, Benno didn't sail here."

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. _Instead I say, "I thought he was getting in later."

She shrugs. "Earlier flight."

I let my fingers tap out an uneasy rhythm on the steering wheel. "And he couldn't take a cab?"

"_Edward,_" she says, her voice rich with exasperation. "He's my fiancé."

_I would've made the fucker walk. _I nod. "Of course."

Jasper's words run through my head—_make an effort, make an effort—_and I smile at her. It probably comes off as cheesy, and just a little creepy.

It takes longer than usual to find somewhere to park, and I'm glad I didn't bring the DB5. Although if I had, I could have stashed Benno in the trunk. Keeping that thought to myself, I take Bella's hand and we walk toward the terminal.

As soon as we're through the doors, Bella's eyes scan the open space. I can feel _something_ rolling off her, but can't be sure if it's tension, excitement, nervousness, or all of it bundled up into one little brunette ball of trembles. Either way, it's making me uneasy; it's very _not_ Bella, and I don't like it.

Just as I'm about to put my hand on top of her head to stop her bouncing around, her hand drops from mine and she's off. I can see her dodge and weave her way through the sea of people, and look ahead of her for the blond-haired surfer-type I've come to expect as being Benno. The guy she throws herself at is _not _what I was expecting.

Her arms wrap around his neck, and he easily lifts her from the ground. Her feet kick girlishly as he turns her, their lips pressed together, his arms wrapped around her waist. She's so little against him that she almost disappears into him. Unwilling to see any more, I shove my hands deeply into my pockets and turn away.

He's here. The man who is taking my Bella away from me is here, in my city, with his arms wrapped around _my_ girl. The sound of Bella's voice calling my name from behind me causes me to take a deep breath before I turn around slowly.

"Edward?" Bella grins, her face tilted up at the man beside her. She's holding _his_ arm, and when I make eye contact with him, he slips it around her shoulders. "I'd like you to meet Benno."

He gives me a wide smile, the whiteness of his teeth contrasting against his tanned skin. Kind, brown eyes that are darker than Bella's look down at me, and his dark brown hair is cut short. He reaches a large hand that I can only describe as a paw toward me. I take it, and try to return the gesture with my strongest handshake. It doesn't feel like enough.

"G'day," he greets me brightly, the word tumbling from his mouth, rich with his loping Australian accent. He shakes my hand enthusiastically at the same time. "I'm Benno. And mate, am I glad to meet you."

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading. As I mentioned in the first chapter, there is no posting schedule for this story. I won't abandon it—E's head is _way_ too much fun to play with—but chances are I won't update weekly. That said, your words of encouragement do help the process. See you next time!


	8. Chapter 8

******A/N: **I do not own Twilight or Made of Honor. All publicly recognizable entities belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended. Thanks to my betas, mcc101180 and shinrai.

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**Mate of Honor**

**Chapter 8**

I scowl at the line of red lights in front of the car. They seem to go on forever. You know what else goes on forever? Benno, apparently. He _doesn't shut up._

"So, then I told him, 'nah, mate, you got Buckley's chance of gettin' that ute all the way home.' 'Cause I swear, Iz, it's a heap. But he proved me wrong anyway. Smartarse little fucker."

Bella, or _Iz _as I've come to hear her called the past hour, giggles and slaps him on the arm. I'd laugh too, if I had half an idea what Benno just said. Instead, I stare intently at the never-ending stretch of unmoving cars ahead, and I silently swear to buy a Hummer so I can drive straight over the top of all of them next time.

"How 'bout you, Eddie?" _Teeth grind._ "What was your first car? Probably something flash, lookin' at the sight of the Merc." In the rearview mirror, I see him run his hands across the seat, creeping up to settle his fingers on Bella's knee.

My foot slamming on the brake makes him move it.

"Shit, Edward!" shrieks Bella from behind me.

"Thought I saw a dog," I mutter in response.

Past my own reflection, I see Bella looking at me in confusion before she shakes her head slightly and turns to Benno. "I can't wait to show you around Chicago. I know we've only got a week, but we could fit in quite a bit. We could go to Wrigley Field tomorrow, if you like."

I snort. "B, Charlie would bury you if he knew you were supporting the enemy."

Bella makes a dismissive sound in response. "I believe in rooting for the underdog."

Now it's Benno's turn to make a strange noise. I glance at the mirror and see Bella give him an odd look herself. I try to keep the spite from my tongue when I speak his name. "Something funny, Benno?"

"Yeah, mate," he says, now beginning to laugh. "I just didn't peg you for that kind of girl, Bella."

"What?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice. I know her expressions well enough to know she'll be doing the cute nose-crinkle that goes with that tone. "That I wouldn't support the Lovable Losers?"

"Wait, hang on a jiff," Benno says. "What did you mean?"

"Exactly what I said," she says slowly, as if she's speaking to someone who's just a little slow on the uptake. "I'm rooting for the underdog."

Again Benno breaks into laughter, but there's something else in it. When I sneak a peek in the rearview mirror, I don't like the look on his face. He drops his voice, presumably so I don't hear. "I was just saying, you don't strike me as the kind of girl to sleep with a bunch of guys."

"WHAT?!"

This time I really _do_ hit the brakes hard, and I wrench the wheel to pull the car over. Benno and Bella both grip the seat in front of them as they lurch forward. I turn in my seat, rage bubbling through me.

"What the fuck, man? How fucking _dare _you!"

I'm a heartbeat away from stepping out of the car, wrenching Benno's sorry ass out and giving him the beat down he deserves right there on the sidewalk. Or calling Emmett to do it—he'd have my back.

Benno's hands are up in a defensive position. "Hang on a second, mate–"

"Benno," Bella's calm voice interrupts, "where'd you get that idea?"

"You said you'd root the underdog."

"Root _for," _she clarifies.

Recognition dawns on his face. "_Ohhhhh…"_

"What did you think she meant?" I ask, still ready to beat the shit out of this guy.

Benno holds his sides and roars with full-out laughter. "Mate! Where I come from, root means something else entirely!" Bella's expression mirrors my thoughts. Benno continues. "Where I'm from…root means fuck."

Now I really do want to deck the asshole, because the thought of him thinking _anything_ like that about Bella makes me see red. Bella, on the other hand, appears to find the situation hilarious. She's laughing as hard as he is.

I roll my eyes and turn up the radio to try and drown out the sound of Bella's giggles and Benno's guffaws. They are still laughing when, still seething, I pull the car away from the curb.

—**MoH—**

Two accidents and a delay caused by a funeral procession later, I'm _finally_ approaching Bella's apartment.

She's excited. I can tell by the way she draws in her breath in rapid gasps as she speaks. "Once we've dropped off your bags at my apartment—"

Benno, whose level of excitement I can't tell because he's slouching in my car like he's being fucking chauffeured, interrupts her. "I already told you, love," —_another teeth grind—_ "I don't want to crowd you. I'm happy at a hotel. Wouldya mind droppin' me off, Eddie?" He yawns. I repress the urge to turn around and knock in his shiny teeth. "I'm knackered. I wouldn't mind a bit of a kip."

Taking a moment to process what the hell he just said, I figure he wants me to take him to his hotel. "Sure," I reply and flick the indicator, keeping my eyes on the road. He gives me the name, and I maneuvre the car through the city streets, studiously avoiding watching his hand resting above Bella's knee and her quiet giggle at the words he speaks in her ear.

When I pull over, I stretch my fingers and crack my knuckles—they're sore from gripping the steering wheel so tight. Benno gets out and I pop the trunk. Twisting in my seat and feeling like a ripped-off cab driver, I ask Bella if she wants to move up front.

"Actually," she says, her cheeks pinking, "I'm going to hang out here for a while." Benno is standing on the sidewalk, and Bella kisses my cheek before taking his hand and sliding out. "I'll call you. Thanks again, E."

I watch her loop her arm through his and walk into the building. I sit there in my car until the doorman urges me to move along.

—**MoH—**

The blank sheet of paper set up on my drawing desk mocks me. After sitting in front of it for forty-five minutes, it should show the beginnings of the custom mantel that a couple from Canada ordered.

"Mr. Cullen?" Mrs. Cope's voice accompanies a soft rapping at the door. "I'm heading home for the evening."

I look up from the paper and blink at Shelly a few times before I speak, "Yeah. Okay."

My assistant takes a couple of reluctant steps toward me. Her voice has that soft, mothering tone to it. "Are you okay, Edward?"

She only calls me Edward when she's really concerned. I blink a couple more times and try to force a smile on your face. "Just fine, thank you."

I can tell she doesn't want to pry, but not knowing is killing her more. "How did it go? Meeting Miss Swan's young man?"

Trying to sound nonchalant, I shrug and stand up from my chair. "He seems very…nice." I turn toward the window in the hope that Shelly doesn't catch the lie on my face. I don't think he's nice. He's trying to take Bella from me. I don't think he's nice at all.

Behind me, she sighs. "If there's anything I can do…"

"Thanks. I'll let you know."

After the door clicks shut, I stand in the noisy quiet of my office. The sounds of the street below are barely audible through the thick glass, and I can hear the soft hum of the small refrigerator in the corner of my office. It's no surprise that the piercing ring of my phone makes me almost jump out my skin.

Snatching it from the table and glancing quickly at the screen, I frown when I see that the number is blocked. Most work-related calls generally come through to the office, so this one catches me off guard. I answer.

"Hello, Edward Cullen speaking."

The sound of two female voices giggling through the other end makes my dick twitch. I can't help it—it's an innate reaction. The realization that one of them _isn't _Bella makes it stand down just as quickly. A tinkling voice filters through the earpiece. "Edward?"

I clear my throat. "This is he."

A different, lower voice speaks. "This is Rose and Alice. We're Bella's bridesmaids."

The inflection on the word _bridesmaid_ isn't lost on me—it's the tone of a woman who feels she's been wronged. I've heard it before…more times than I care to admit.

"Ah yes," I answer, switching on the smooth voice I've practiced over the years. "What can I do for you ladies?"

"We're drinking." The higher-pitched voice, who would appear not to be the one holding the phone, makes the statement like it's an announcement. The bar noise I can also hear through the phone emphasizes her point.

"What Rose is saying," Alice says, obviously closer to the mouthpiece, "is that we're talking wedding plans. We're at Antiqua. Be here in twenty minutes—you need to be involved."

The sound is gone, and apparently the conversation is over. I rack my brain and try to think if that was part of the deal. A prior conversation pops into my head, although at the time, I hadn't really been listening. I pick up my phone and dial. He answers quickly.

"Dude, I'm busy. What do you want?"

"Jasper? Why do I need to meet with the bridesmaids about wedding planning? Doesn't Bella do all that?"

I can almost picture Jasper, using his beer bottle for emphasis, telling me like it is. "You need to collaborate with the bridesmaids to plan the bachelorette party. Dude, I really gotta go." Then, he hangs up.

Ah yes, that makes sense. Bella wouldn't plan that part.

Hold up. What? I have to plan a bachelorette party?

Images flick through my head like a rapid-fire movie reel. Women, tottering drunk, falling over any guy that stands still long enough. The bride wearing bright pink tiaras, veils, feathers, and other kinds of fluffy shit that sticks to your clothes.

I have to plan a fucking _bachelorette_ party?

Time's getting away from me, and according to the deadline I've been given, I've got sixteen minutes to be three blocks away. I grab my coat and keys, lock up, and prepare to meet my feathered-and-veiled fate.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading! Sorry for the delay...been a little busy with a little thing called the Happily Ever After Twific Contest. Have you read the entries? They're great :)

It was suggested that I explain...well...Benno. Hope this helps!

**Translation – Benno to...everybody else.**

"_So, then I told him, 'nah, mate, you got Buckley's chance of gettin' that ute all the way home.' 'Cause I swear, Iz, it's a heap. But he proved me wrong anyway. Smartarse little fucker."_

"So then I proceeded to say, 'no, my friend, you don't have any chance at all of the truck making it safely back to your home.' Because I promise you, Isabella, the vehicle is highly unreliable. But he proved me incorrect. He is a mischievous young man."

"_Hang on a jiff." – _Wait a moment.

"_I'm knackered. I wouldn't mind a bit of a kip." – _I'm tired. I wouldn't mind a nap.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **I'm uploading this on the sly. Hope it works. Thanks to my PTB betas, Hammondgirl and mcc101180. I don't own Made of Honor or Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.

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**Mate of Honor**

**Chapter 9**

I make it into the bar with one minute to spare. I know it's one minute, because when I sit at the table, a silver women's watch adorning a narrow wrist—and a pokey, pointy finger tapping it—appear right in front of my face. "You're late, Cullen."

I give Alice a smirk as I slide myself into a seat. "I'm right on time, Alice." I beckon for a waitress, and there's one at my side within thirty seconds. After ordering a drink for myself and another for each of the girls, I turn my attention back to the two women sitting opposite of me.

I've met Alice and Rosalie many times. I don't think they think very much of me…although sometimes I wonder if Rosalie, as bright, bubbly, and sweet as she is, thinks at all. She sips her drink through a straw as she smiles at me. She's tall, just under six foot, with legs for days and long, blonde hair. She's always friendly, and I truly don't think she has a bad bone in her body. As a buyer for a fashion company, I know she's responsible for helping to feed Bella's shoe addiction. It was Rosalie that told me how important Bella's red-soled shoes were to her, and she helped me get a deal on a new pair.

Rosalie is friendly and warm, where Alice is cold and calculating. Alice is small in stature, but more than makes up for it in presence. I believe she's some kind of high-flying executive, but I'm not sure what kind of company she works for. She's always managed to deflect whenever I've asked…so I've stopped asking.

As I look at them now, Alice's steely gaze fixed upon me and Rosalie blithely moving to the beat of a song that can only be heard in her head, I am struck by just how different they are. Despite their differences, these two are Bella's best friends—second to me. Strangely, as unalike as they are, they seem to complement each other. They kinda remind me of Pinky and The Brain.

"Right," Alice says officiously, and I gather the informal part of our evening is over. "Let's get down to business." She pulls a tablet from her executive-looking briefcase and starts frantically tapping, her nails making clicking sounds against the screen. "We need to arrange the bridal shower, bachelorette party, venues, catering, decorations, dress shopping, accessories, invitations, shoes, then schedule in time to break in said shoes…"

As she continues to prattle, I stare at her, gobsmacked. At no point in Jasper's research did he mention scheduling time to break in shoes. I thought that was just for horses?

"Alice—"

She turns to me coldly. "Don't interrupt. Can't you see I'm organizing?" She huffs a breath. "Considering your…" she eyes me up and down "…genetics, I suspect I'm better qualified."

Rosalie slips the straw from her lips and glances at the both of us. "You're not letting him organize because he's Irish?"

I flick my gaze back to Rosalie, sure that my expression shows the same confusion that clouds Alice's. Tossing her long, blonde hair over her shoulder, Rosalie offers me a wide smile, then she resumes sipping her drink.

Closing her eyes briefly, Alice shakes her head before directing her attention back to the screen in front of her. "So..."

Alice continues to speak, and I let the words swim over me. After another beer for me, two more Cosmopolitans for Rosalie, and countless screen taps and a glass of white wine for Alice, she sits back in her seat, confident with her strategy. I say "her strategy," because that's what she's calling it.

Rose asks—again—if the responsibility for all of the planning should be placed upon me, because as she put it, "Mate of Honor trumps bridesmaid." Alice scowls and then proceeds to state what sounds like her bride-assisting duties resume, emphasizing with a poke of her pointy finger on the table that her knowledge, skills, and experience in organizing events in the past make her _more_ than qualified.

By the end of it, I just don't have the energy to argue. I do, however, have the tab for our table and a number of tasks to complete.

After settling the check and bidding an officious Alice good evening, I help a slightly stumbly Rosalie into her coat. After slipping my arms into my own sleeves, Rose pats my arm gently.

"You know," she begins, turning suddenly and swinging her purse in a wide arc.

"You're a really nice guy."

I smile politely in return, steering her around a table that she nearly clears with her swinging bag, and offer a quiet apology to the couple whose drinks almost land on the floor. "Thank you. That's very sweet of you."

"No, really," she insists, settling a hand on my arm and looking at me earnestly through red-tinged eyes. I start to feel uncomfortable, because she's Bella's friend, and it sounds a little like she's hitting on me. "You're a really nice guy."

I'm not sure what else to say, so I simply give her a small grin and thank her again. As I politely open the door for her, she smiles. "See? _Nice guy._" She sighs. "I'm not sure about this guy Bella's looking to shack up with." Rosalie huffs a breath, the next word coming out with her exhale. "Benno. I mean…" She stumbles down the step to the bar. "What the fuck kind of name is Benno, anyway?"

I chuckle, because the sentiment is familiar to me.

Rosalie shakes her head and mutters under her breath, "He's not good enough for her."

I stop in my tracks as Rosalie digs through her purse, emerging triumphantly with a tube of lip gloss. She pouts comically as she tries to plaster it across her lips.

I try to remain nonchalant as I question her. "What makes you say that?"

"Pssh." Rosalie waves the lip gloss through the air, and I'm amazed that she doesn't draw a streak across her face in the process. "He wants her to leave her friends. Her family. Her life. Her country." Rosalie's hand gestures become more sweeping with every declaration. "And she'll go, because she's a _nice girl,_ and she thinks she should be where her husband is." Rose pauses, as if to ponder this. "I suppose that's the point of getting married, huh?" When I don't answer, she continues. "The point is, she's marrying him for the wrong reasons." She sweeps another hand. "_Allll_ the wrong reasons."

I offer a steadying arm as Rose stumbles a little again, but she waves me off. "How do you know all this?"

She shrugs. "She told me."

This causes my head to whip around. "Told you when?"

"The other night." With another shrug, she pauses to look up and down the street, presumably searching for a cab. "Besides, he's totally the wrong guy for her."

I watch Bella's friend, desperately trying to hide the rising optimism that blooms in my chest. "But how do you know he's the wrong guy?" I clear my throat and try to appear diplomatic. It's probably a waste of time, but I doubt Rosalie will remember this conversation in the morning. "When I met him, he seemed...interested." I try to hold in the shudder that comes with the mental image of his hand on Bella's knee.

"Ah." Rosalie taps the side of her nose twice. She misses the first time. "I know."

Rose hurries off, and it suddenly occurs to me that I'm gossiping, much like a girl. What has this wedding thing done to me? I resolve to schedule a game of soccer with the guys as soon as possible, then go out for beer and belching.

Lengthening my stride to keep up, because Rose is surprisingly fast when tipsy and wearing incredibly high heels, I wrap my coat closer against the chill. Rose is muttering about catching a cab from the corner, because she's never had any luck finding one outside Antiqua before. As a yellow car slows to her frantic waving, I can't help but ask one last question.

"If this whole wedding is a bad idea, then why is she marrying him?"

Rosalie pauses, the door to the cab open, and stares at me, her blue eyes remarkably sober. "That one's easy." Her normal jovial expression is a little sad, although she's smiling. "She got tired of waiting."

As the cab pulls away, I start heading toward my office to pick up my car. I thrust my hands into my pockets in an attempt to ward off the chill, letting my fingers brush past my phone as I find my keys.

When I arrive at my office building, I cross the lobby and hit the button to call the elevator to take me to the underground parking garage. Flicking my keys around my fingers, my eye catches the keychain bearing the crest of my alma mater, and I'm reminded of one of my business professors. He made sure we understood two things:

One, know your strengths and use them to your advantage. Two, know your competition and _their _strengths…then make sure yours are better.

Pulling my phone out with my free hand and unlocking it, I send a text to Bella, telling her I'd like to meet her and Benno for lunch. I get one in return, giving me a time and place for later in the week.

I smile as the doors close and the elevator takes me underground. It's high time I got to know my competition a little better.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading. I know I'm slow on the updates these days, but believe me when I say real life is truly kicking my ass. Thanks to my girls on twitter and Facebook for your support these past few months, and to the special, gorgeous individuals that send me kind messages in secret - I'd be lost without you. You know who you are.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **I do not own Twilight or Made of Honor. All publicly recognizable entities belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended. Thanks to my PTB betas 2Shaes and mcc101180, and to TwiSNfan who reads pretty much any drivel I come up with.

* * *

**Mate of Honor**

**Chapter 10**

I'm nervous. I'm knee-jumping, finger-tapping nervous. The waitress has stopped by numerous times to ask if I'm okay, if I'd like my water glass refilled, and would I like a beer or some bread. I'm meeting the guys after this to debrief, and if I have one beer, I'll have another. Then I'll be trying to run around the field drunk, and Jasper has been training extra hard lately—he'll catch me easily.

Instead, I sip my water and wait for Bella and Benno to arrive. As I'm refilling my water glass yet again, I hear the laugh that soothes the nervous ache in my stomach. I look up to see Bella and the blunder from down under talking to the hostess. The hostess is giggling, oblivious to Bella's hand on Benno's arm, her flirt-meter in overdrive. Bella's eyes scan the room, the hostess no longer holding her attention. When they land on mine, a huge, bright smile breaks out across her face. I see her interrupt the hostess and pull at Benno's arm, yanking him in my direction.

"Hey!" she says excitedly, releasing Benno and reaching toward me. I stand as she approaches, unable to hide my own grin. When she throws her arms around me, I try not to inhale the scent of her hair. I fail.

"Hey, yourself." I pull back and smile down at her beaming face. In that moment, it feels like she's mine' like I could lean down and kiss her…but she's not. Yet.

"Sorry we're late," she says, unwrapping her scarf and letting her coat slip down her shoulders. "Traffic was a bitch." She drapes both items over the back of her chair, and I tear my eyes away to glance in Benno's direction.

I may not like the guy, but my mother brought me up to be polite. "Hey," I greet him, extending my hand. I resist the urge to strong-arm him—only partially due to the fact that he could probably break my fingers.

"Hey, how ya goin'? All right?" responds Benno, returning the handshake.

I pause, unsure if I'm supposed to answer the question or not. It seems as if Benno has already done so on my behalf. Instead, I change the subject as we sit. "How are you enjoying Chicago?"

"Yeah, I'm really liking it. Couldn't live here full time, but." He orders a beer from the waitress, who gushes over his accent. Bella studiously examines the menu as this happens, which strikes me as a little weird. I know whenever we've been out together and the waitresses flirt with me, she pretty much tells them to fuck off. I can't help but wonder why she isn't saying anything, considering this guy is _her fiancé._

I'm aware of Bella throughout lunch, while I politely answer Benno's questions about my work and then do what I came here for: I grill him. I find out he grew up on a farm and graduated top of his class in high school. Apparently his senior class had about fifty students. He then moved to the city where he studied archeology, which after a few years led him to the job at the museum…and ultimately, my Bella.

When Benno tells me that he'll be going home to manage the family farm when his father retires in a couple of years, I notice Bella becomes especially interested in her food.

"Then you'll leave the city and move back home?" I ask, setting down my cutlery and leaning back in my chair.

"Yeah," he says with a shrug. "Bit hard to manage things from the Big Smoke. Anyway, I'll probably work with the old man for a year or so to make sure I know the ropes." He chuckles. "Best knowing before I get chucked in the deep end, y'know?"

"So, you'll just up and leave the city?" Bella is visibly shrinking in her seat. "What about Bella? Won't you miss her?"

Benno looks at me blankly. "Miss her?" he asks, rhetorically I think. He slings an arm across the back of her chair. "She'll be with me, of course. We'll move there straight after the wedding."

Ignoring the battering ram that takes to my insides at the thought of the wedding, I sip my water and press further. "What about Bella's job?"

Benno shrugs. "She can go back to it, I s'pose. I guess it depends on if she wants to go out after the rugrats come along." He winks. I swallow down bile.

Although she's been silent most of the conversation, Bella finally speaks up. "Have you heard from your mom?" she asks Benno.

"Yes!" he answers enthusiastically. "Actually she rang this morning." His tone becomes serious. "Nan's not doing too well."

"Oh," Bella says softly, resting a hand on his forearm. "Is she..."

"She's a tough old bird," he goes on, settling his own hand over Bella's. "But Mum asked if we could do the wedding sooner. You know...just in case?"

I suddenly feel uncomfortable, and I'm thinking that moving the wedding sooner will definitely mess with my plans to win Bella back. If they make it in six months' time, the pressure will be on. I can probably manage it, though.

As I mentally run through how this will work, I vaguely hear Bella ask something. I nod and say "yeah," because really, how can you go wrong with that and am shaken from my musing when her voice peaks.

"Oh my god, we're really doing this!" She's wriggling in her seat, buzzing with nervous, excited energy. At least I _think_ it's excited—she seems borderline hysterical.

Benno wraps his arms around her tighter. "We are, love! Mum's gonna be stoked!"

_Maybe I can find a girl to make a play for him. Bella hates cheaters. Yes...that'll work..._

I smile back when Benno punches my arm. The dude's going down.

"This is brilliant, mate! Thanks so much!" He turns to Bella. "You sure the girls will be okay with it?"

Bella's phone, which has somehow made it to her hand, chimes twice. "Rose is good," she mutters, "and so's Alice. Dad's due to take some vacation time, and he'll love it! This is _really_ happening!"

A tiny voice in my head tells me that I should have maybe paid attention. "What's happening?"

Bella rolls her big brown eyes and giggles. "The wedding, of course!"

Yep. Definitely should've listened. "When will that be?"

Benno looks at Bella, who gives a light smile "The twenty-third. It'll be great. We'll head up north for our honeymoon then be home a coupla weeks after that." He chuckles. "Mum'll be thrilled. She'll get the cottage ready, and we can move straight in!"

"The twenty-third? Of next month?" Benno nods, and I'm pretty sure if you shone a flashlight into my eyes, you'd see the gears of my brain snag, then start up again, squeaking and grinding the whole time. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears when I look at Bella. "You're leaving in four weeks?"

Bella looks at me as if I've got three heads. "The wedding is in four weeks. We leave in two."

It's a real effort to keep my voice under control. I implore her to look at me. "_Two weeks?"_

"Yeah," says Benno. "I'm heading home on Monday, then Iz can come in a coupla weeks. She'll just needs to pack up her flat and stuff." Benno stands, popping a kiss on the top of Bella's head. "I'm just going to head to the gents. Back in a tick."

I ignore him and keep my gaze on Bella, afraid that if I look away for a moment, I'll waste the minute I have with her. Resisting the urge to pull at my hair, I settle for running my hands on my thighs. She looks up when I say her name. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just did," she says, her voice eerily calm. "You agreed to it."

"I—" _I did what?!_ "Bella…I can't go halfway around the world in four weeks. Hell, _you_ can't go! Leave your job?" I reach across the table to grab her hand, and she flicks her gaze to meet mine. "Think about it. You're leaving. You're flying around the world in two weeks. You want me to stand beside you at your wedding in four. We've known each other _forever._" Her hand seems small in mine, and I squeeze it, trying to hold on to her. Trying to hold her _here._ "Isn't this happening a bit fast?"

Tears shimmer in her eyes, and the expression on her face looks pained. I want to kick the ass of the bastard that put it there, and it's all I can do not to stand and pull her into my arms. "Edward, I—"

Benno's return interrupts us, cutting Bella's words off mid-sentence. I want to tell him to fuck off, because that's the face she has when she has something to say. The way he sits down in his chair and grins at her before leaning back and slinging his arm across the back of her chair tells me he's oblivious to her quirks. For a moment, I decide I don't ever want him to know them, but half a heartbeat later, I'm struck by the feeling of Bella living a lifetime with someone that doesn't know her. It hurts more than knowing she'll be married to him.

I let Benno's voice fade into the background as he enthusiastically tells Bella about some uncle of his, and that it's a good thing the wedding will be in Australia because he's unable to leave the country. As Benno talks, I see Bella visibly shrink. Her smile is becoming forced, and she's begun flicking her fingernails against each other. She's rattled...and it looks like she's getting ready to run.

This is it. Somehow, it's happening. This is the moment where she tells him it's not working out. That it's not him, it's her, and that she can't marry him. Then straight after that, she and I will drink too much, while she props herself on a bar, lamenting that all men are animals, and she's swearing off them forever.

The entire time this vision is running through my head like a well-played movie reel, complete with skips where the name of the bastard changes or the amount of tequila drank blurs the nights from memory, I am suddenly aware of the fact that Benno is completely oblivious to this. They just set their fucking wedding date, and she's about to dump his ass, right here in the middle of a crowded restaurant where he's half a world away from his family and his friends.

He looks happy. And she's about to kick his puppy.

I take a deep breath and resist smacking myself in the head. I may not like the guy much, but I can't be witness to a public execution. I'm speaking before I even realize I've opened my mouth.

"Benno?" His head turns as I call his name. I could shut up now, but frankly, I'm an idiot, so I keep talking. "I'm going to head to the park to play soccer with the guys." _I'm SUCH an idiot._ I clear my throat. "Wanna join us?"

Benno's face lights up, just as Bella's silently asks me _what the hell are you doing?_

"Well, I'm more of an AFL man, but…" He shrugs, then leans down to kiss Bella's cheek. Although I just saved his ass, I can't watch—I avert my eyes and call for the check. "D'ya mind if I head out with the lads, love?"

Before I know it, Benno and I are exiting the restaurant, and he's clapping me on the shoulder, his Hulk-like hand almost breaking my bones beneath his grip. "Righty-o, Eddie! Let's go meet ya mates!"

I smile back weakly in return. What did I just do?

_Fuck my life._

* * *

**A/N: **Do you like an Edward who isn't afraid to say what he thinks, or ask for what he wants? I'm currently brewing another contest with Nicffwhisperer. Follow dirtytalkedward on twitter, or check out the contest page on Fanfiction - /u/4742504/ Dirty Talkin' Edward is coming soon...


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **Thanks to the lovely Lyta and the magnificent mcc10180 for poking this with their beta sticks. I do not own Twilight or Made of Honor. All publicly recognizable entities belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**Mate of Honor**

**Chapter 11**

I hit the ground—_again—_with an _oof_. This time I don't hop to my feet right away. Instead, I lie for a moment, letting the chill through my shirt freeze my skin.

This is what it's like to be dead. I mean, it has to be, right?

I look up, and sure enough, above me is bright white light. When I close my eyes, stars dance. My body is cold and heavy, and I think I want to stay right where I am.

Although if I were dead, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't hurt this much...and I'm sure angels don't laugh at you when you arrive at the Pearly Gates.

"Mate, are you 'right?" A cheerful voice breaks me out of my thoughts and back into the here and now. A warm hand dwarfs mine, and I'm hoisted unceremoniously to my feet. "You bit the dust pretty hard."

"Yeah," I reply, shaking my head and putting my hands on my hips. I try to suck in as much air as I can. "I'll be fine."

Benno gives me a thumbs up and jogs over to where Jasper is laughing his ass off. Jasper lifts a hand to his mouth to call, "What's wrong, Cullen? Can't keep up?"

"Shake it off, Edward," Emmett says from beside me. I can hear him trying to stifle the laugh in his voice. "Who knew the boy could play?"

He indicates to where Benno is casually bouncing the ball from knee to knee, foot to foot, and lifting it up to rebound it off his chest. The whole time, he maintains conversation with Jasper. He's been running all afternoon, and he doesn't even struggle for breath.

I give my head another shake, and Em and I get back into position. Benno launches the ball high, then drives it down the field. We all take off after it.

Benno gets there first.

On the way to the park, he told me he hadn't really played soccer since high school. Apparently, his senior team won the state finals.

Seems that age hasn't slowed him down.

We play for another twenty minutes; by which time, Emmett, Jasper, and I are all struggling for breath.

"I haven't run so much in ages," comments Emmett, slapping Benno on the back firmly as we walk toward the park's gate. "Thanks, man, that was quite a workout."

Benno laughs. "No worries, mate. That was fun. Thanks for letting me tag along."

"We usually head to the bar after we play," Jasper says, falling into step with Emmett and Benno. I'm a few paces behind, trying not to scowl like a child. "Wanna join us?"

"Actually—"

Benno cuts me off. "Love to, mate." He grins, and Emmett starts rapid-firing questions about Australia at him.

The guys talk animatedly, Benno telling my friends about who-the-fuck-knows-what, as we head for the locker rooms near the park. They're one of the reasons we come to this field, which is more like a club—fucking amazing facilities. I busy myself with getting organized; I'm rummaging through my bag for my shampoo as I hear the communal shower on the other side of the lockers start up.

"Hey," Jasper says, dumping his bag on the bench next to mine. "I probably should have asked…"

"No, it's fine," I tell him, trying to shrug off my irritation.

"He's pretty unassuming, isn't he?" Emmett appears on the other side of me, digging through his own bag. "I mean, I thought he'd be a total asshole, but he's actually kinda funny."

"He is," Jasper agrees. "I thought you said he was an asshole, Edward."

I ignore him and pull off my t-shirt, stuffing it into the side of my bag. My friends banter back and forth, deciding to ask Benno about Australian chicks, and I grab a towel from the shelves and head for the shower. When I round the lockers, I stop dead.

Benno's under the shower, obliviously soaping himself with his face up to the water. He's singing something, which is a little off-key, and with eyes closed, he turns to face the doorway.

"Holy fuck," Jasper mutters, appearing beside me.

Em's right behind him. "I guess we _definitely_ know what Bella sees in him now."

From the corner of my eye, I see Jasper tilt his head to the side. "Where does he _keep_ that thing?"

Emmett sounds thoughtful. "I wonder if he gets back problems from carrying that around."

"He probably does!"

Benno turns, still singing, and seemingly oblivious to the fact that three guys just checked out his junk. He gives us a grin and a nod and keeps washing. Another three guys walk past us, then seeing Benno, give him a wide berth. They're probably afraid that thing will slice through them like a lightsaber if he turns.

"I'm er…" I indicate in the direction of the shower stalls. "Just gonna—"

Emmett backs away. "Me too."

Jasper agrees. "Yep. See you guys in a few."

I shower quickly then, securing a towel around my waist, dress hurriedly. Even Em pulls his jeans on with a towel still wrapped around him.

We gather our stuff and head out of the club. Our regular hangout is a short walk from here—it's a sports bar owned by Jasper's cousin, Peter. He comes and plays soccer with us every now and again, but the bar keeps him pretty busy. He gives us all a friendly wave as we walk in, and Jasper snags our regular table near the flatscreens at the side of the bar. Emmett buys the first round, and we settle in for beer and bullshit.

A few rounds—or "shouts" as Benno insists they're called—some hot wings, and some fries later, we're all feeling pretty buzzed. Emmett's laughing his ass off and sharing anecdotes of his latest client, and Jasper is apparently Benno's new best friend. I'm becoming more and more pissed, so Emmett's taken to calling me Sullen Cullen. _That_ pisses me off more, so I knock back a few more beers. Jasper tells Peter that Benno is getting married, who announces it to the bar, then produces a bottle of tequila and tells us it's on him.

Things go downhill rapidly after that.

We're stumbling out of the bar, and we're into another bar. There are more drinks, and this bar not being a sports bar—more girls here. Em has some redhead on his lap, and Jasper's on the dance floor with the redhead's friend. Benno and I are sitting at the bar when some girl sidles up.

"Hey," she says, twirling her straw in some pink-colored drink. "I'm—"

I'm pretty sure she told me her name, but a quick look-over her, and I'm not interested. Benno's nudging me and telling me to go for it because she's hot. She's rubbing up against me, and her hand is on my thigh. The next thing I know, she's calling me an asshole, and she's storming off.

I'm pretty sure it's about the time I call her "Not-Bella."

"Mate," Benno slurs in my ear, slinging an arm across my shoulder. I don't shrug it off, because although I've switched to water and am sobering up, I basically don't give a fuck anymore. "What'd you say to her? She was _hot."_

"Not my type," I respond quickly. The image of the girl who _is _my type flits into my head, and I feel a drunk smile creep on my lips.

"Ohhhhh," says Benno, removing his arm and taking a swig from his beer. "There _is_ a girl."

I don't answer, because what am I going to say? "There _is_ a girl, and she just happens to be my best friend. And _your_ fiancée…_mate."_

Thankfully, my phone buzzing in my pocket puts an end to the conversation. My girl's beautiful face—still beautiful with her eyes crossed and tongue poking out—lights up the screen. I excuse myself and answer, plugging a finger in my other ear to try and hear better. I still can't hear, so I duck down the hallway heading to the bathrooms. It's marginally quieter here, and I can actually hear her voice.

"Edward? Where are you?"

"I'm"—I look around—"at some bar near Pete's. I have no fucking idea what it's called."

She sounds a little worried. "Is Benno with you? He texted me, but now he won't pick up…"

"Yeah," I tell her, peeking around the corner to where Benno is still sitting at the bar. He's leaning forward, his forehead pressed against the bar. I can't help but snicker. "He's with us."

"Oh, good." She breathes a sigh. "Are you, um…I mean is it…"

"We're taking good care of him, B," I tell her. I peek back around the corner again, and Jasper's sitting next to Benno. They have their arms slung around each other and are rocking from side to side.

"Good," she says quickly, her tone a little clipped. "Good."

"I think we're about done here, so should I send him to your place?" My stomach rolls at the thought.

"No, I'm at Alice's." She sighs. "Just…tell him I'll see him tomorrow? I have to take him to the airport."

"Oh," I say, surprised. "I thought he was here until Monday?"

"No, his grandma's sick. He has to go home." She sounds…off.

"B, are you okay?"

"Yeah." I think I hear her sniff, but she covers it. "I gotta go. I'll talk to you soon."

"Okay. Night."

"Night, Edward."

My phone flicks back to its home screen, and I can tell she hung up before I did. I pocket my phone and head back to the bar. Emmett has lost the chick and is sitting with Benno and Jasper. They're all laughing their heads off.

"Something funny?" I ask as I approach. They all whirl around on their barstools; Jasper nearly falls off of his.

"Not funny, but we're gonna have some fun!" Em answers boisterously.

"I want my all my mates at my wedding!" Benno announces, punctuating his proclamation by thrusting his beer into the air.

"Um, okay?" I respond, a little confused.

"We're his mates!" Jasper says, sounding not as drunk as Benno, but almost there.

"And we're going too!" Em joins in.

"Going where?" I ask slowly, because I'm pretty sure I know the answer.

"Down under!" Jasper sounds more excited than I've heard him in ages. "We're all going to Australia!"

I look at the three of them, because shit just got really weird. Actually, it was probably weird when I invited Benno to play soccer with us, so this whole thing is my fault.

"But you just met," I try to reason.

Benno laughs. "She'll be 'right, mate. We've got plenty of room at Mum and Dad's place. You lot can all stay in the farmhouse."

I shake my head, because I feel like the dumbest fuck in the bar right now. Em gives me a wink, and I just feel more confused.

Benno, sensing my confusion, tries to make things clearer. "The wedding's in the shearing shed at my parents' place, so you can all stay nearby. It's gonna be an absolute cracker!" He puts his beer in the air again. "To new friends!"

My best friends clink their beers with his, and I feel a little like they've turned their backs on me. I sit at the bar next to Em and order a bottle of water. When the bartender puts it down in front of me, Em nudges me in the side.

"Don't sweat it, E," he says lowly. I twist on my barstool to look at him, and he winks at me across the top of his bottle. "You know what they say, my friend. Keep your friends close…"

My eyebrows rise—I had no idea Emmett was so downright devious. He taps his bottle against my water and drinks.

I guess if I'll be playing on an away field, it'll help to have at least _some_ hometown advantage. I'm just hoping a trip halfway around the world doesn't bite us all on the ass.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading. I know my updates have been few and far between. What can I say? RL-induced writers' block is a nightmare.

A couple of extra goodies: I'm currently co-hosting The Dirty Talkin' Edward Contest with nicffwhisperer. Check out dirtytalkedward dot blogspot dot com.

I'm also writing a Yosemite Decimal outtake for Fandom4LLS. I've written more about that on my blog—check my profile for the link.

**The Benno to American English dictionary:**

She'll be 'right: It'll be okay.

An absolute cracker: A really, really good time.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **Thank you to TDS88 and mcc101180 for their beta skills. Leftover mistakes are mine. I don't own Twilight or Made of Honor, so if it looks familiar—it belongs to somebody else.

* * *

**Mate of Honor**

**Chapter 12**

The gentle clearing of my assistant's throat and a softly spoken "Coffee, Mr. Cullen?" catch my attention. I look up from the sketches I've just put the finishing touches to and return her smile.

"That'd be great. Thanks, Shelly."

"I thought I'd head to the cafe downstairs. Can I get you anything else while I'm there?"

After asking for a muffin, I wave her off and hear the front door click as she closes it softly. Standing and turning to rifle through my filing cabinet, I search for the account documents for a client. They want to set up a new office building and came across my designs at a showcase earlier this year. I chuckle to myself—I'd taken Bella as my date to that showcase, and we'd spent much of the night making fun of the high-flying bidders and their wives. We'd danced and got drunk because she'd—yet again—sworn off relationships, having just broken up with some guy. I can't even remember his name, but that one had been short-lived.

I hear the door creak as it opens, and I don't bother turning around. "Shelly, have you seen the Dawson file?"

The responding laughter has me whip my head around. Bella's standing just inside the doorway with her arms folded, giving me the grin that I love so much. "You'd be lost without her, Edward."

I lean against the back of my chair. "You're right." Grinning, I walk around my desk to give her a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood," she mumbles into my shirt. "I thought I'd drop by to take my best friend to lunch."

"Mmm, sounds great," I reply into her hair. I want to hold her all day, but I release my embrace and step back. "But I'm supposed to meet Marcus…"

"Fantastic!" she says enthusiastically. "I haven't seen him in ages."

I wave my hand in the direction of one of my spare chairs, indicating to Bella to take a seat. She picks the red high back—like she always does—and I smile.

"What?" she asks, kicking off a shoe and curling her foot under her.

"You always pick that chair," I remark as she settles in.

"I love it." She strokes the arms of the chair reverently. "It makes me feel like a queen."

"I did say you could keep it, you know." I did. I offered it to her when the prototype came in last year.

"Ah," she says, wiggling into a comfortable position and sighing. "It wouldn't fit in my apartment. Besides…" she gives me a grin "…where would I sit when I came to visit you?"

My grin falters, because in just a few weeks, if my plan fails, this won't be happening anymore. Bella won't be able to drop in whenever she likes, and she won't be coming in just to curl up in the big red chair in the corner of my office. And the thought of not seeing her all the time makes my chest ache.

Bella must be thinking along the same lines, because her smile fades too. She looks thoughtful…and a little sad. "That was a dumb thing to say, wasn't it? I mean, you might not want to keep the chair." She traces one of the pressed buttons on the chair's arm with her finger. "You might want to get a new chair."

I'm a little confused. I _could_ design a new chair, but that one fits this room perfectly. "Why would I want to get a new chair?"

She shrugs. "Because…I don't know, maybe it doesn't suit its purpose anymore."

"As a chair?" I'm really confused now. "It's always going to be a chair."

She sits up straighter, tucking her foot farther beneath her. "But what if you get tired of it?"

"I'll always love that chair," I tell her.

"Yeah, but what if the chair's all faded and ugly? What if its buttons start to pop...and it gets gum stuck on it...and it falls apart?"

I'm probably smirking. "That will never happen. That chair's always going to be perfect. I _made_ that chair."

Her brown eyes fix on me. "Yeah, but nothing lasts forever."

I don't think we're talking about furniture anymore. "I don't care," I tell her. I set my gaze on my best friend, and she stares back. "It's always going to be a great chair. Even as it ages, it will be beautiful. It will only increase its value as time goes by. That chair's a classic, B—it's one of a kind." I lean forward, propping my elbows on the desk in front of me. "I'll always love that chair. Always."

Her expression quirks with a little smile. "Always?"

"_Always."_

We're staring at each other, neither of us breaking our gaze. I want to look at her forever. I don't care if she gets old and faded—she'll always be beautiful. In my eyes, she'll never be any other way.

"Hello?" Shelly calls from the reception area outside my office. "Are you here, Mr. Cullen?"

I grin, and so does Bella. "In here, Shelly."

"I'm sorry I took so long, the line was almost out the door." She pauses and smiles when she sees Bella in the big red chair. "Oh, hello, Miss Swan. What a lovely surprise."

Bella gives Shelly a little wave. "Hi, Mrs. Cope."

"How nice to see you, dear." She lifts a cup from the small cardboard tray and sets it in front of me. "And one for you too," she says, passing a cup to Bella.

"Thank you," Bella says, wrapping her hands around the cup. "But how did you—"

"Just a hunch." Shelly winks at me before returning to the reception area, shutting the door behind her.

From across the room, Bella smirks at me across the top of her cup. "Told you you'd be lost without her."

**~MoH~**

While I jot down some ideas for Mr. and Mrs. Dawson, Bella curls up in her queen chair and flips through some of the interior design magazines I keep stacked on the side table. We sit in comfortable silence, except for the sound of my pencil scratching and moments where B holds up a picture of a piece she particularly likes, and asks my opinion.

We each do our own thing, neither of us feeling any pressure to fill the silence. It's the kind of relaxed companionship that comes with years of doing this…just enjoying each other's company.

"Do you have a job lined up?" I ask at one point.

Bella shakes her head and sets down her now-empty cup. "No," she replies, returning to her page-turning. "Benno has to go back to the farm, so I guess I'll help out there for a while. I might be able to get a job in the town nearby."

I look up from my sketching. "Town nearby? What do you mean?"

She doesn't meet my gaze. "Yeah. Well, the house isn't exactly _in _town…"

"How big is the town?"

She screws up her lip—a sign she doesn't want to tell me. "1500 people."

I drop my pencil. "What? That's, like, _half_ the size of Forks!"

"Mhmm." She still isn't looking at me.

I try to keep my tone from sounding too shocked…or too confrontational. "What kind of job might you get in a town that's so small? You're college educated, and I bet there are no museums there."

She jerks her head up, staring right at me. "They have a farm machinery museum, thank you very much."

I hold her gaze. "Farm machinery?"

She's biting her lip now. "Yeah. Well…" Her face flushes as she looks away from my surely incredulous expression. "It won't be forever." She tosses the magazine aside and stands quickly. "I'm starving. What time are we meeting Marcus?"

I put down my pencil—this conversation is apparently over…for now. "About fifteen minutes. Okay. Let's go."

**~MoH~**

"Ah, _Bellissima._" My uncle holds his arms wide, and Bella walks right into them. "It's so good to see you again." He draws back from her, dropping a kiss to both cheeks.

"It's good to see you too, Marcus." Bella smiles up at him—she's used to his ways. "How have you been? You look well."

He waves. "Ah, I'm fine. But you, my dear, are positively glowing. Engagement suits you." He throws a look my way, and I scowl back. He winks…and I want to call him an asshole. "Doesn't it, Edward?"

I mumble something in response, and we all sit, Marcus and Bella animatedly catch up. After our food arrives, we all talk easily in between bites. Marcus gives me another look, but doesn't say anything, when Bella and I cut off sections of our meals and switch.

"So, Isabella. It appears I am too late. I waited too long." Marcus sighs for dramatic effect—and gives me yet another pointed look.

Bella laughs, resting her hand over my uncle's. "You know you'll always be my favorite."

"Then let us run away together!" he says with bravado. When Bella just shakes her head, he makes another comment about men not being smart enough to act in a timely enough manner.

I have no idea what he's playing at.

It's when we're having coffee and dessert that Marcus asks about Bella's immediate plans.

"Well, I leave a week from Saturday." Bella cracks the top of her crème brûlée before digging her spoon in. "So I just need to finish packing up my apartment. I'm sub-letting it to Rose until the lease is up."

I'm about to ask why she's sub-letting if she's moving for good, when my uncle interrupts. "Are your girlfriends taking you out this weekend?"

Bella nods, her spoon to her lips. "Yes, Saturday night. One last night out in Chicago."

"That sounds very nice." Marcus smiles warmly. My phone vibrates with a new message, and as I pull my phone out, I notice Marcus take something out of his own jacket pocket. "As I'll miss your nuptials, I wanted to give you a gift. It's just a little something for you." He slides a small, rectangular box across the table to Bella. "I brought it to give to Edward to pass on to you, but I'm pleased to be able to give it to you myself."

As Marcus talks, I glance at my phone. It's a message from Alice, instructing me that as mate of honor, I need to confirm the venue for Saturday night's festivities. She's included the contact number and a name, and I silently thank—rather than curse—her organization skills.

"Oh Marcus!" Bella's voice causes me to look up. She places her hand on her chest. "Really, you didn't need to do that!"

"Ah!" He raises a hand. "It's nothing. Please. Open it."

Bella carefully slides off the ribbon surrounding the box and sets it on the tablecloth. As she opens the box, she gasps.

"I know traditional letter writing is a dying art, but it's always nice to have something lovely to open your mail with. And it belonged to a woman who would love it to go to a smart, beautiful lady like yourself." Marcus smiles, and curiosity gets the better of me.

Bella turns the antique letter opener over in her hand, her fingers running over the intricately molded detail on the handle. I'm in shock, because I've seen that letter opener before. Bella gasps again as her fingers trace the scripted letters on the handle—letters spelling her name. She sets it down gently back in her box and then leaps to her feet to hug my uncle. I swear she has tears in her eyes when she thanks him again. Over her shoulder, Marcus winks at me.

Reaching for the box, I turn the implement over and my suspicions are confirmed. This was my grandmother's letter opener, and on the opposite side to Bella's name, is my grandmother's married name.

_Cullen._

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**A/N**: Thank you for reading! Like Marcus's gift? Do you think maybe there could there be a hidden meaning? Or is he just very generous... ;-)

Don't forget to check out the Dirty Talkin' Edward entries—voting starts August 13 2013. I'm also contributing a Yosemite Decimal outtake to Fandom4LLS. To donate, and to check out the other amazing authors contributing, go to Fandom4LLS dot blogspot dot com


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Thanks to mcc101180 and babykay18 for the beta bubbles. I don't own Twilight or Made of Honor.

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**Mate of Honor**

**Chapter 13**

After Bella and I finish lunch with Marcus—and Bella thanks him another two dozen times for her gift—we say our goodbyes, and I head back to the office while she goes home to continue packing up her apartment. As I shrug out of my coat, Mrs. Cope asks me how lunch was.

"It was good," I tell her, hanging my coat on the rack. "Marcus gave Bella a wedding gift."

"How very thoughtful," she says with a kind smile. "What did he give her?"

I hook my scarf up with my jacket. "He gave her my grandmother's letter opener."

"Ah," she says, her eyes twinkling as she peers over the top of her glasses. It seems like she's about to laugh, but she clears her throat and schools her features back into a neutral expression. "Very thoughtful indeed."

Shrugging, I begin to walk to my office. "I guess so. I mean, it's quite old…" I wonder if I should tell her about the engraving but decide against it. "Bella loved it, anyway."

"Oh, Mr. Cullen. The fact that it's an antique is lovely." She returns to her typing. "What I meant, though, was the significance of giving her a letter opener."

"Hmm," I reply, a little confused and a lot not-really-listening. I shut myself into my office and sit down in my chair. With Bella leaving so soon, I'm seriously running out of time…and suddenly, my plan doesn't seem to be going so well. I have less than two weeks, and Bella's literally packing up her apartment as I sit here, moping. My eyes fall on the red chair that my girl sat in only a few hours earlier. She's such a big part of my life—she has been since we were so young. It hits me that she's actually, really _leaving_.

Beside the fact that I'm in love with her, and I have been for years, I'm going to miss my best friend most of all. Perhaps it's selfish, but I don't want Bella halfway around the world from me.

It makes me all the more determined to show her how much she means to me—to show her how much I love her. I resolve to make her last night out one to remember—to make it a night so good that she'll never want to leave.

Buoyed by this determination, I pull out my phone and bring up the message from Alice, complete with the details for the venue she recommended. I type in the numbers, and as I wait for somebody to pick up, I start googling potential places to take Bella's friends for dinner and drinks beforehand. I'm distracted when a deep, woman's voice answers the phone.

"Oh, hello," I say, skimming through the online menu for what looks like a great Thai place near the venue. I disregard it quickly, because spicy food and possible copious amounts of alcohol may not mix. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

A chuckle filters through the line. "It's Michelle. And what's your name, sweetheart?"

A little taken aback by the greeting, but acknowledging to myself that I'm long starved of female attention, I put on my suavest voice. Maybe I can get us a better deal. "I'm Edward."

"Well thanks for calling, Edward." There's a soft tapping of keys. "Now what can I do for you?"

I resume scanning the screen in front of me, but keep talking. "I'm calling about a booking for a bachelorette party this weekend."

"Ah," she says, clucking her tongue. "Bachelorette parties are our specialty. Do you have a booking?"

"Yes," I reply. "I think it's under the name of Bella. Alice may have made the booking."

"Mmm." There's more tapping. "Ah, here it is. Booking for Bella. It says the Maid of Honor would be confirming." Michelle's tone changes, lifting a little. "I take it that's you?"

"That's me." I bring up another browser to find a limousine company. Why do women complain? I can totally rock this multitasking shit.

I give the details that Alice passed on to me, and Michelle confirms our numbers. Thinking back to The Plan, I decide to take things further. I want this night to be _really_ memorable for Bella. "Do you have any special packages?"

"_All_ of our packages are…special," the woman answers haughtily. "But we do have some high-end services. It involves full VIP treatment in one of our private rooms."

"That sounds perfect," I reply, thinking of the way Bella's face will light up. I absently look at my phone again, and upon taking in the name of the venue, Club Primp, another flash of inspiration strikes me. "Do you do facials?"

The other end of the line goes dead, and I wonder if I've been cut off. When the husky voice speaks again, it sounds incredibly hesitant. "Umm…that would cost…a bit extra."

Having no idea how much beauty services cost, but knowing how much Bella enjoys being pampered when she goes out with her friends—mostly because I have to hear all about it when we catch up for a drink afterward—I assure the hostess that money is no problem. After I'm assured that Bella and her friends will be well taken care of, the hostess asks if I'd like to participate. I shrug, and figure since I handed my man-card in when I agreed to be part of Bella's bridal party in this whole fiasco, I've got nothing to lose.

Although the hostess is very accommodating, the rest of the conversation is weirdly strained, and I hang up feeling like my brain has been twisted into a ball. If it's this hard to organize what's supposed to be a relaxing night out for Bella and her friends, then I figure they'd better offer some serious fucking stress relief. I need a drink.

**~MoH~**

The rest of the week flies by as I continue to meticulously plan every detail. I even call my mom for advice, and after she gushes about how sweet I am, she gives me the golden info: make Bella feel like a million bucks. Which is why the guys and I are standing around, late Saturday afternoon, stuffing pink paper gift bags full of girly shit.

"Tell me again why we're doing this?" Emmett drops a B-monogrammed cupcake into a small, square box, then pushes the box across to Tyler. He grabs another cake and another box. "We could be at the field right now."

"Because it's raining," Tyler replies, tucking in the top of the box and sending it to Jasper.

"And our boy needs help." Jasper ties a ribbon around the box with a little too much precision and holds it up to inspect his work. "Although when we agreed to _help_, nobody mentioned _anything_ about packing gift bags."

"Shut up." I snatch the box from Jasper—_carefully_, because these things crush easily—and add it to one of the half dozen, small paper bags lined up in front of me. "Just a couple more. Then there's just the mini perfume bottles, body lotion, lip gloss, gift vouchers, and a couple of aspirin for the morning."

That's right. My gift bags are _classy._ I googled bachelorette gift bags as part of my research—and I was pretty freaked out by the stuff that appeared. My Bella is a sophisticated girl; I'm giving her a high-class event. No cocks on straws at _this_ party.

"So…" Emmett sets the last of the cupcakes into a box and sends it along the production line "…can we come to this thing?"

"No." I add another bag to the pile and stop for a moment, giving Emmett's question further thought. "Well…I might be able to meet you guys out somewhere afterward. I'm not sure what time this thing will wrap up." I pause for a moment. "I guess I _could_ send the girls home in the limo at the end of the night…"

"Done. We'll meet you at Pete's. You in, Ty?"

Tyler shrugs. "I guess. I'll have to check—"

"Yeah, yeah. We get it." Jasper ties off the last box with a flourish and presents it to me. "And you want to tie yourself down, Edward?"

"So do you," I shoot back. "Tell me you don't want to take a nice girl home to Mama Whitlock. She's hassling you for grandbabies, isn't she?"

That shuts him up, but I do hear him mutter something under his breath about how hard it is to find a good woman who can cook as well as Mama. He's onto something—_nobody_ cooks like Mama Whitlock.

"Call us when you can get the hell out of there." Emmett claps his hands together, as if to dust them off, and gives us a salute. "We'll be chowing down on wings and beer, while you'll be drinking champagne and eating sushi and wishing you had a steak." He gives us a final wave and laughs his way to the front door of my apartment. "See you later, assholes!"

Tyler stands up from his seat. "I'm out, too. If Lauren's going to let me out tonight, I better go start dinner."

Jasper makes some excuse, and before I know it, I'm alone. I check the time and figure I better hurry—the limo's arriving in less than two hours and I still have shit to do.

When the limo does arrive, I've showered, shaved, and dressed in black slacks and a dark gray button down shirt. Giving myself a last glance-over in the mirror, I'm pretty happy with what I see…and Bella loves me in darker colors.

I manage to make it to the ground level without dropping the box of gift bags, and I give the doorman a grateful nod when he helps me out to the limo. Once inside, I direct the driver to Alice's address to pick up the first of the girls. The limo makes its way through the city-lit Chicago streets, and I recline back into the soft leather. I can't wait to show Bella a really great time and show her that I'm capable of giving her nothing but the best.

My smile grows wider. It really is going to be a night to remember.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading! I've loved hearing what you think. So...what's the craziest thing you've said/seen/done at a Bachelorette party?


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